Life Of Doors Poem by Sarah Pesta

I don't remember having a dream
Where making choices could wake me up

My shaking hand slowly reaches out to the silver knob
The other is clutching my horrified heart

I can't tell what's on the other side of the door
But I am willing to keep going on

The door slowly opens and I can see a light
An empty forest with the sun glowing on a golden harp

A beautiful harp such as this glows in a warm light
I walk up to it and seen its pure form

Though I never played a harp before
Strumming the highest string sounded like a harmony

Something inside me told me that life will be full of doors
Each of them containing something that we may not have seen before