One side in,
the other out.

On the knob,
the warmth
of your hand,
and now, mine.

Where are you now?

Should I wait
for you, or follow?

The room is quiet.

It rocks gently,
anchored by
what it contains.

I decide to stay,
but I do not
close the door.

The way I feel,
I might never
close a door again.

May 19, 2006

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