a Sonnet for Linda
I stand in darkness looking out the door.
Dim lights reflect in puddles on the street.
The night is young, but fear comes to the fore-
front of my soul as I admit defeat.
Imprisoned in my heart, I flee what waits
beyond the boundaries of this world I know—
imagining those things my mind creates—
(the pain) rejected oft’ so long ago.
To taste despair, so hopeless to move on,
I turn away, drink silently of fate
and pray for morn to bring a gentle dawn—
my garden, flowers, trees inside my gate.
Perhaps someone will come when I am dead,
scatter my ashes in that world I fled.
With Lillian as hostess for dVerse Poetics, we are writing about doors. I searched my photo archives and this photo of our front door made me think of someone I loved much who suffered from agoraphobia for years. When she died, the family released white doves. I trust she is free at last.
The doors to the pub open at 3:00 PM EST. I hope this prompt will open those creative doors for you.