writing

The Bramble Door

Behind the Bramble Door,
I’m waiting to see.
Who lives within its halls,
Does she look like me?
Movement in the shadows,
Tells me she is near.
Whispered voices calling,
“There is nothing to fear.”
A furrowed brow, an endless scowl,
As she sees my face.
Everything about her cries out to me,
“This is not your place.”
For beyond the Bramble Door exists,
Secrets known to none.
The voices turn to anger,
Screaming loudly, “Run!
So run I do, through the woods,
Across a covered bridge.
Down the vale, up a hill,
To sit upon the ridge.
I collect my thoughts, they’ve scattered so,
I’m lonely and confused.
I thought behind the Bramble Door,
Lived my missing muse.
I brush the dirt off my dress,
And scramble to my feet.
Wherever she’s gone, it’s far away,
So for now, I will retreat.

3 thoughts on “The Bramble Door”

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