A Wooden Door, A Metal Key

A Wooden Door, A Metal Key
A plain wooden door, nerve-ridden A carved metal key, in my pocket hidden. And secrets that lie behind that blank facade A building, some windows, my dreams.

I wandered on those blind Parisian streets. Nobody knew my name Nobody knew where I came from I was different, yet still the same.

A wooden door like corpus callosum Holds my two worlds together I enter now, I walk out at midnight I flee The buzzing and the hum.

Copyright (text and image): Rani Turton

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