The Door Poem by Simi Kaulitz
The Door
Someone knocked at my door
standing on the marble floor.
I thought it was my friend Bob,
so i hurriedly turned the knob
The door was brown
but black at the crown.
It was made of teak wood
which made it look good.
The door is a living thing
but it can't sing.
The door can't talk,
so please don't knock.
If you have something to tell
please ring the bell...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 4:49:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
nice flow a true poem indeed thanks -mel