The Door to my Heart
The door to my heart
is tiny, more like a window
you can squeeze through,
but once inside,
my heart is huge,
gleaming gold love for people in pain and children;
the child in all of us.
The door to my heart
has weathered hinges that creak when opened,
and a sill of distressed wood.
The door is just ajar and a tendril of ivy
wanders out, green and gleaming.
The door to my heart
invites you in, there is no secret password required,
just sweetness and peace.
© Christine Salkin Davis, 2020
is tiny, more like a window
you can squeeze through,
but once inside,
my heart is huge,
gleaming gold love for people in pain and children;
the child in all of us.
The door to my heart
has weathered hinges that creak when opened,
and a sill of distressed wood.
The door is just ajar and a tendril of ivy
wanders out, green and gleaming.
The door to my heart
invites you in, there is no secret password required,
just sweetness and peace.
© Christine Salkin Davis, 2020
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