this old door

this old door stands tall yet humble

though its truth is weathered beneath layers of wonder
paints of browns, greens, blues and soon to be white

its change has marked its age just as a tree marks its life

proclaiming to the world that it has met its height

this old door has made a haven

though its knobs are loose and scratched  from wear through the years

don't you see each time it was turned it brought forth someone nearer?

sounding its welcome from the easy creak of a hinge

how many times must it have been turned and not once acknowledged ?

but it is only a door, yet only a door that should not be forgotten

this old door has had its days

 though it has worn its burdens
it still remains