Doors

Crisp, clean, white,

A door.

I walk towards it, peer in

A door to my right and left.

A mystery beyond.

What is behind each door?

I could be anything,

Cleaning produces, a security room,

Anything

One door looks old,

Rust matted the outside of the lock, corroding the key hole

The other looks new,

This had no lock, free to open and explore.

I imagine what lie beyond each.

Then I think…

The first door is my present – where I stand before both doors.

The second door is my past -  already drawn and printed.

The third door is my future - something I’ve yet to understand.