At The End of The Street

At The End of The Street

There before sits a doorway of changing

Should I pass through this exit or entrance

Appealing are the blues and dusted greens

Red bricks approach then a vague dusty mat

The hedge of multiple colors light and darks

Shadows of darkness and lines of dirty molds

Yet somehow it is statuesque and unassuming

Where once a warrior lived in a mysterious place

So familiar it resoundingly felt like a dream I had

The wetness a reminder of blood that was shed

The cobwebs naturally adorn the sides of wood

And a fair blonde woman will soon open the door

Wearing a beautiful smile she’ll invite me inside

And while singing tenderly explain where I’m at

She’ll feed me as a friend who compassionately sat

Behind the turquoise doors waiting my arrival

To tell me about where the clocks gone haywire

And the craziest things about heaven on earth

And what the angels are up to amongst the dirt

And all will be well passing through

The mysterious blue door

At the end of the street



Thanking all lovely thoughts today

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