A Poem by Marilyn "Misky" Braendeholm

Doors

She paused, her thumb caressing

that familiar dent on the brass door knob.

A brief glance, a feathered blink was all that she

took with her, a few memories were

enough.  Dare she hope that this house might fill

with more than opaque hues of rainbows

shining through her tears.  She wanted to know

how this happened, who’d gilded the past

twenty-years so she’d think she was content. 

Please.  Stay.  Don’t go.

His voice so slight that she wondered if he

heard himself speak.  She was a fool in love,

living a fool’s life, and not knowing

her own mind.  She turned toward him.  A pause.

A tear.  A smile.  I’ll stay, she said, knowing

that she’d use a different door next time.

Marilyn“Misky” Braendeholmlives in the United Kingdom. Her interests include religious (gothic) architecture, gardening, recipe testing, baking yeasted and sourdough bread, photography, and writing. She has participated in four NaPoWriMo challenges, and has poems and fiction published with Mouse Tales Press, Sprouts Magazine, Poetry Quarterly, and Pyrokinection. She has two grown sons and two grandchildren. You can find more of her poetry at http://miskmask.wordpress.com