Adeeyoyo's Blog

I write what I feel…


The Secret Door


Hidden by bristly brambles

The thorny creeper rambles,

Its pointed fingers wind,

Meshing as tight as twine

Concealing, screening

My wounded feelings,

Safe and secure

Behind the secret door.


The hinges and lock

Were rusted with age

With no way to open

The make-shift cage.

And so I lived for twenty odd years

While my heart was healed

And I could reclaim

What was mine again.


©DGA 30 April 2012 08:32