Out at the edge,
Where the stars barely shine,
Some say there’s a door.
I have heard of a door,
One that’s not quite ornate,
With tracings of gold,
But with light seeping through
The cracks at the floor
These small golden rays
They tasted like daisies
The sweet crunch of an apple,
The purest of joys.
They brought sadness and sorrow
Of memories lost,
Of perfect summer days
And dark starry nights
Of moments that had passed
In the blink of an eye
Shut out like a light
They were gone.
But this door led the way
Some say
To a place
Where these memories go
Then a ray travels far enough,
In perfect sync with the universe,
And it touches your thoughts.
You might cry.
You might laugh.
But the door is always there
In reassurance
That though life might change,
Small things stay the same.