You know, someday-and it'll come-
when whats behind the frozen door
becomes unfroze by light of life
and lays there, newly on the floor.
I've always been of just such pace
that my door never was to lock;
Just swung wide open in its place
to turn inside, or turn to mock.
The wind flies in. The winter too.
As I, unhinged, remain awake
and leave my door wide open still.
All for your close-heard footsteps sake.
I know not where to find a key.
But key's get lost. And maybe then
the only way left to unlock
is by the light of an open friend.
We sigh and question where to start.
But I'll be real here, in the end.
My door is open; like my heart.
So yours can open up and mend.
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