Before the last door Closes

By Karen Walker

Wait! Please don’t walk away,

There is a story much I want to convey,

I don’t mean to impose

But the last door is about to close…

I was hiking with a friend

And I got lost near the river bend

I am not sure how they found me

As I sat beneath the old birch tree…

There is so much more to tell

But I am in a living hell

When I go to catch the words,

They fly away faster than any bird,

My mind is a house of doors

With words scuttling along the floors

And I rush down each hall

Racing to catch them all,

Yet the door slams before I arrive

Where is that story I want to revive?

Yes, the doors are closing quickly now

My stories grow shorter with every hour

I still know your face

And you voice is easy to place

But your name is last in line

That door just closed for the last time

I was hiking with some friends

And I got lost near the river bend

I am not sure how they found me

As I sat beneath the old Birch tree…

There is so much more to tell

But the doors have all closed…