The Door

Having read a poem called The Door by Miroslav Holub, the group were asked to write a poem describing what they might see if they were to open their door. Here is what Marguerite Cato wrote:

 I opened my door to my garden

And was faced with a wonderful sight

For the plant which entwined round my trellis

Had burst into bloom overnight.

The buds which had nestled in secret

Had suddenly burst into bloom,

The beautiful pink and cream blossoms

Were so numerous, there scarcely seemed room.


This physical vision of beauty

Will sadly be short, although sweet,

And then another year must pass

Before this scene repeats.

But it will remain in memory,

Fill the dawn of another such day,

When I open the door to my garden

To see the beautiful flowers in May.


I opened my door in my memory

And am once again young and alive

To the joys of exploring the universe,

Discovering how other folk thrive.

Then I’m suddenly transported to Venice

And in front of St Marks and the square;

I hear musical strains from an orchestra

Which is outside a restaurant there.


Then I’m dancing alone in that great empty space

To the sounds of a beautiful waltz –

A waiter appears – he bows with such grace,

We step forward – continue the dance.

When the music is finished he thanks me and smiles

Then he leaves me the way that he came;

And I? Well, I slowly come back down to earth

Before I return to my friends.


Marguerite – May 2009


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