Doors

Ya, its not very deep, meaningful, moving, thoughtful, or even sensible, but atleast it’s my own work (of art). Try to think of it as abstract, and you’ll stop trying to make sense out of it.

To some,they are mundane functional items,

That stand on hinges and shut and open.

Some people hack them to test their weapons.

Others stand before them and cut red ribbons.

`

Philosophical minds like mine,

Have long pondered over the supine,

Way in which doors incline.

talks behind closed doors seem clandestine,

Doors left ajar open to nameless horror, or beauty divine.

`

Without them,our lives would be incomplete,

Nothing to open, our guests to greet.

Gone would be the element of surprise,

Nowhere to yell ‘BOO!’ from in scary disguise,

Or wreak havoc in secret,

And watch others enter and pop out their eyes.

`

Let us not forget,

From them great music was inspired,

And oh! jammed doors make us perspire.

When the time comes for a door to retire,

It creaks and groans to its heart’s desire.

And my delirious, dreadful discourse on doors shall not tire,

Till my critics roast me on a slow fire.