Behind a door closed to keep the night at bay
Voices talk of quiet places where the air is haunted
Where moments stay forever
And the floorboards whisper the secrets of ghosts
The walls are stained with ebony
Blackened by lies told in the beds of lovers
Or the pleas of a man for a life he threw away
Still the artist walks there in silent frenzy
And the killer waits for a knock at the door
But the house is empty when the morning rises
The dark halls taste the sun again
And fall quiet in waiting for the night
Then do the shadows call out to you
Come and see what waits behind the door
But always leave it locked when you return to the world
—
I realize this poem has nothing at all do with Christmas, but it’s just what I ended up writing last night. Hope everyone enjoys the holiday!
—
Photo by Brad Fickeisen on Unsplash
Enjoy the spirit of Christmas 💚
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Powerful images. Poignant!
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Thank you!
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You’re very welcome.
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