touching the door

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I find myself mesmerized

By the carvings in the wood

The detail….the gilded knob….

The heavy dark wood

The way the stairs beckon

What may lie on the other side

And whether anyone hears the knock

My hand touched the brass

Tentative

Determined

Fearful

Aching

Wanting

Shrinking

Thinking

Not wanting to think

Will I knock?

Or shall I stand here?

Or is anyone even at home…..

I know I will have to know

But perhaps

Not quite yet.

Tomorrow

I may favor boldness over

Patience.

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