Knock.
Knock.
Knocking.
On the wooden frame
Of an open door.

Opportunity enters
Dressed in white.
A ghost of bachelor's past
Well isn't she beautiful?
Isn't she a find?

Her steps,
Diamonds formed between
Hard fists.

Knock.
Knock.
Pounding.
On the wooden frame
Of a closing door.

The tears
Of a nervous man
Are wept
By his brow.

As the heart in his hand
Escapes
Into his feet.

Run.
Run.
Running.
On the wooden frame
Of a crowded floor

Opportunity exits.
Embracing white.
The ghost of a bachelor's past
Well isn't it beautiful?
Isn't it one of a kind?

Run.
Run.
Running.
Out the wooden frame
Of an open door.