Turning the Doorknob

Through the door,

Red, polished, a simple gateway

Silver knob and golden key

Silent in its slender presence,

But inside is joy and glee

Wreath and mat adorn its structure

Yet its soul is simply wood

Many dreams and races and people

Have crossed the threshold

To the exciting world beyond

But fewer seen within

We are all mobile doorways

Shall we move out or in?