poetry by j matthew waters

break on through

a door closes another one opens
leaving you standing there
more concerned with what
you may have missed
rather than moving forward

you tell yourself there are flowers
behind the closed door
beautiful & bright & sporting
all the colors of the world

if you had only clipped them
before it was too late
you could have passed them on
to those you admire most

the only screams you hear
are from the inside
overwhelming the messages
streaming through the open door

june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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