I sit in this room; dark, dusty and blue
the solitary door; slightly ajar
joy, laughter and golden light pour through
memories of outside; clouded and far

a gust of wind blows my fantasy closed
what was behind the door I now must know
I decide to leave - i'm left unapposed
this cant be hard - so planning I forego

I reach for its worn handle of dulled brass
my hand finds only wall; no door in sight
the final sand grain falls in my hourglass
as the door waits; just an foot to the right