The Door

Glistening in a gentle arch over the roadway
sparkles peeking out the corners, ten feet tall
Doorknob gold, colors swirling, curling at
the corners. Looking up, amazement, intimidation.
One side dark, gloomy, trees heaving with the weight
of the misty fog blanketing the world. Mud piles
stick on the ground, leaving no safe foot holes,
no clean steps for shoes. But while looking at the door,
and down back at the shoes, something creaked.
It was a quiet creak, a needle on the ground.
The Door, so majestic, opened
just slightly, just a crack, just enough
to see the colors beyond its domain. Greens, blues,
oranges, yellows and red. A spreading meadow,
an open blue sky. Birds chirped, crashing waves
of the ocean. Trudging from the mud, almost losing
a shoe, heading to the Door and stepping through.