There's a door
|
Handle's cold
|
Made of iron & brass
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And this door it used to lead
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Into what is now my past
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If you were to have opened this door
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It would have lead you on to a floor
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Where my mother had played almost 50 years before
|
|
Nuts & bolts galore
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Croquet balls in drawers
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Badminton nets & racquets
|
All Frank's undergarments
|
|
Walls get built where once there weren't any there
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Locks get locked & door knobs fall off
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Wood-carved roads, chip-rock rues, so turn the screws
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But the weasel of my heart
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Late at night unlocks the lock
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Walks thru the wall
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Sits down with my mother & plays a game of ball
|
|
Nuts & bolts galore
|
Croquet balls in drawers
|
Badminton nets & racquets
|
All Frank's undergarments
|
|
There's a door
|
Handle's cold
|
|
-----------------
|
Door
|
| Martha Wainwright |
