Darkness and Light.
From Writers of the World
A fond childhood memory.
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Darkness and Light. |
The thick, old wooden door was giant size,
it's knots and imperfections in full glory.
Beckoning to the delicate petite child,
that stood scared, before it's immensity.
A bolt now rusty, weathered with age and time,
questioning in the mind of innocence,
curiously with uncertainty present.
My tiny hand, timidly unlocks the mystery within.
Darkness beckons as shadows play games,
sheltering eight legged creatures, and their young.
A musty smell lingers uninvitingly, of stale coal,
coldness was to consume a warm presence.
Another wooden door, equipped with handle,
an escape route to the other side.
I quietly stood in frightening silence,
in the spookiness of the small confined shed.
Bolting for the loving arms of salvation,
out of the jaws of dark confinement.
The circular handle stiffly turned,
aged hinges, groan in painful creaks.
Strong rays of light pour in the darkened space,
consuming the eeriness held by blackness.
Another world is confronted with a smile,
relief of the light that warmly greets me.
Nostrils respond happily to an earthy smell,
warmth caresses the small dainty figure,
standing briefly motionless, like a statue,
absorbing a magical feeling of wonder.
Refuge in a fragile building of glass,
among green and red ripe vegetables,
lovingly grown with big tender hands,
by a man as warm and loved as his greenhouse.
