There is a blue painted door
With a rusty lock
We would love to go in
We look through the letter slat
We can just about make out
A shelf of dusty old books
We would like to read them
Touch them
Absorb their words
So many stories
The woman wrapped in bandages
Black butterflies swarming
Around her
The man in the fire lit forest
A cup of tea suspended in mid-air
The house in the snow
With smoke and flames
Billowing out of its chimney
Our memories of stories
Are crystal clear
Of reality
They are fuzzy
Huddled together on a windswept beach
I would like to dance
With the moon she says
Excitement in her voice
I am stuck at the locked door
She pulls me away
For another adventure
Unlocks and loves me
How wonderful that feels.
