Adeeyoyo's Blog

I write what I feel…


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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