The Door
by Mary Ellen Quire
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Through the window of my heart,
I can see it.
If only I were to step outside,
Beyond the door that’s locked before me,
Keeping me from moving any further.
There’s liberty there,
I see it now, but I cannot touch.
Cannot taste of it savory flavor,
Cannot think of it beyond where it lie,
Beyond the door.
Trapped inside, my soul seems beyond repair.
For how can it possibly be rebuilt?
Only to step outside…
To taste of the fullness,
To be happy, if only once more.
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| Reviewed by La Belle Rouge Poetess Of The Heart |
4/11/2011 |
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| Honest hearts will find a way to pass through the door. Beautiful poem. Heart touching. |
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| Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader) |
4/7/2011 |
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| Great wrting dear lady...Hugsss |
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| Reviewed by Felix Perry |
4/7/2011 |
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Very nicely written.
fee |
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| Reviewed by George Carroll |
4/5/2011 |
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Hope is the key. Splendid depiction of what many face in life when all doors seem locked.
George |
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| Reviewed by Elisabeth Barstowe |
4/5/2011 |
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| They say time heals all wounds. And usually it does, only deep in despair there is no such light shining through. It takes time. Wonderfully written. |
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| Reviewed by Gene Williamson |
4/5/2011 |
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The key to that door, Mary Ellen, may well be
the challenge to be happy skillfully crafted in
these heartfelt lines of hope. -gene. |
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