deep brown, as a grizzly, with strips along.
Framed with curves and craft that enhance its show,
the remains also so ornate, artist take a bow.
So calm, so composed and unyielding to a foe.
All this hovers my mind, when i see this majestic door.
It had been years, in scores, since it let me pass,
I was then barely worthy to even ask.
But now I remember not what it stood guard.
Are its treasures still unplundered or all is gone,
or maybe it has changed its fealty to some other.
As I stood thinking, my hand on the knob,
There I pondered, what it held within,
Some relics of old maybe,or broken things was a possibility,
could be a few books, if they had survived.
Maybe just an empty hollow with several moldy lines.
Could be ceilings which with cobwebs adorned.
This jailer might hold captive both known and unknown.
As I stood thinking my hand on the knob still.
Jumping to conclusions could be a mistake it might be a dam instead,
holding the torrent back and not withholding prisoners.
It could be keeping in check the flood of memories in mind,
thoughts long lost in time or, words and phrases that no longer rhyme,
Could be images. with broken frames, of events I once craved.
As I stood thinking my hand on the knob still.
Once I shake hands with this old friend,
and invite myself into its memory filled den,
Maybe I will know again what i knew once,
or I could be staring at a stranger like a dunce.
The rush of not knowing, all would have gone
As I stood thinking my hand off the knob.
I turn away without entering feeling, dread filled, cold.
It is better not knowing, I tell myself, anyways it's old.
And I walked away with that lie,afraid of what might lie,
Till this date i do not know what lay beyond the magnificent door.
