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The Door
September 24, 2014
When I reach home,
I see you.
Standing there patiently,
waiting for me to come through.
You are a titan,
braving the wind and rain.
Your body is a shield,
protecting us from suffering and pain.
You hinges are aged,
and creak when they swing.
Your life has been spent
safeguarding our precious things.
Even then you seem unimportant,
they think they can live in your absence.
People still disregard you,
to them, you have no existence.
But no matter what they say,
no matter their perception,
I still love you,
as you are perfection.
© Linhda T., Durham, NC
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This poem reflects my feeling on everyday objects in my life