Doors

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  • Life

    Doors

    Every house and its varied doors

    Every door and its mysterious halls

    Strangers and friends must start at the door

    Knocking with a will for a heed

    Who has a better story to tell?

    Who is with the better spell?

    To open the heart of the owner

    And shut the door behind him

    A friend needs no wand, foes will certainly bind

    But Strangers have to be kind

     

    Every house and its varied doors

    Some though like yawns, still could be jaws

    Some with a drama to hide

    Whispers to conceal

    Others, ever faithful in veiling the mundane

    Even the spider and its spirals

    The boring dust and the freckling

    Guests seem to call for a pry

    For none truly knows

    For none truly sees

    What exactly the door hides

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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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