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Doorways of Life
She stood by the door, waiting.
The river whispering her name,
Its' secret songs promising
Tea parties and fantasies of the future
If she could but get there.
She stood by the door, waiting.
Her date now far too late to pick her up,
She smoothed her prom dress, a nervous habit.
Knots twist themselves in her stomach.
She cries when he does not show.
She stood by the door, waiting.
Lingering amid childhood knick-knacks,
Relics of her past. She smiles,
Calls it all a bunch of trash.
Fantasies of childhood never come true.
She stood by the door, waiting.
The church bell now ringing,
Processional march playing,
Her future husband waiting to meet her.
She steels herself for what's ahead.
She stood by the door, waiting.
Her daughter sleeping soundly,
She hums a soft lullaby,
Not wanting to wake her.
The quiet of the night envelops them.
She stood by the door, waiting.
Watching her daughter play make-believe,
Talk to friends that only she can see,
Have tea parties under willow trees
That dance amid the flowing river.
She stood by the door, waiting.
As her daughter's nervous date
Awkwardly gives her a hug hello,
Stammers out a compliment,
She finds herself wreathed in smiles.
She stood by the door, waiting.
Lingering there among things left behind,
Relics of her daughter's childhood,
Carefully packed into boxes.
She knows she will cherish them.
She stood by the door, waiting.
Her daughter standing tall and proud,
Resplendent in her wedding gown,
Full of smiles and happiness,
She wishes her the best.
She stands at the door, waiting.
For what, she doesn't know.
Her body now well worn with time,
Mind still curious and in control.
She opens the door and steps through.
