A Paint Splattered Door

April 30, 2010
Behind a paint splattered door,
There is a closet,
Buried deep
In this mind of mine.
Filled to brimming,
With images unused,
Millions upon millions
Bury my memories
With imagination.
Such as tombs of old,
Where the dead rest.
Imagine my closet,
See the paint and brushes on the floor,
Feel the half shaped clay on the table,
Read the books scattered throughout.
In this mind of mine
Buried deep
This is my closet
Behind a paint splattered door.

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