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Sam Bartle

The Door

The Door

Never showing a glimmer of inside,
A wall in all but name.
It matters not, I still decide,
To love you all the same.

This closed portal that entices my mind,
Fixed shut, steadfast and sure.
Though intentions are more than kind,
I am forever poor.

Worshipped, adored, in all kinds of esteems,
Oh, that I could say more.
Hopeless wishes, desperate dreams,
Lay dying, at the door.

Behind, withholds the happiness I seek,
Bountiful in its store.
Yet, no shudder, nor shake, nor creak,
The still, unmoving door.

The tide is out as the Moon wanes,
Waves recede from the shore.
I’ll walk this land,
But my heart remains
Here, outside, the door.

Bio: Sam Bartle is from East Yorkshire, England, and writes in verse on all aspects of life experience and observations of the world around him. His work has featured on BBC Local Radio, Luke Jerram’s urban art exhibition ‘Of Earth and Sky’ (Winner: ‘Best Arts Project’ - Hearts For The Arts Awards 2022). He has also appeared in The High Wolds Poetry Festival Collection 2021, and numerous online ezines including ‘Wildfire Words’, ‘The Writer’s Club’, and ‘Duck Duck Mongoose’.

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