Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

The Old Oak Door

Stumbling through the cream papered corridor

The ruby red rug shuffling under my Wholly odd socks

peppered in specks of gold

like an Alice in Wonderland dream

There is no Alice, this is no dream

The red rug ends merging to the old oak door.

Now etched in green.

 

Darkness awoken by the dimly lit lamp

Casting a shadow in the role of a stranger tracking their victim in the dead of night

A quiet echo of shuffling feet can be heard

Down the narrow corridor to the old oak door.

Now Etched in green.

 

Reaching out with my hand to the neglected dull, brass handle

Burns as it turns

A chill to the touch

Creaks and groans like being rudely awoken in the early morning hours

Rolling over, protected by the heavy winter quilt

A gentle tug to the oak door

Now etched in green

 

The deep buzz of life outside my castle fills the slumbered corridor behind me

Then locking it inside

like trapping an unsuspecting fly in a spiders web

Desperatly squirming to escape

Only to tie up its destiny as the spider spies it feeble prey

Closing the old oak door.

Now etched in green.

 

Dancing alternatively on each leg

My hand stretches deep inside these blue tattered jeans.

Shuffling to catch a light

Cigarette resting on these red razored lips

Waiting impatiently for the right hand flame

Three times cracking the flint like the caveman i have quietly become

Not noting the exact date of feeling pitifully grey

Creaking, wheezing and pained

I feel it today

Just like the old oak door.

Now etched in green.

 

One more crack of the whip, the flint ignites the fuel

Invites the dirty smoke filled air to be inhaled into my already smoke stained lungs

A final breath, extinguished, then relinquished

Temporary contented

Memories of uncontrolably gulping a cold glass of sweet cordial on a sweltering summers day

Knowing more will only partly cure

the heated August thirst

Turning back down the shadily lit corridor

Stalked by the dark stranger on the cream papered walls

Furthering from the old oak door.

Now etched in green.

◄ Footprints

5 years ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message