Poem: Not So Dead Ends

Not So Dead Ends

It wasn’t the first dead end doorway I had entered,
the first wrong turn, thinking I was on my way
to somewhere, only to find walls all around.

It wasn’t the last.

So then, one of many. So many, you might think
I make a habit it, wandering aimlessly
into confined spaces, where the only way out
is the way you came in.

Maybe so. Not on purpose, but with a tendency
to curiosity, wondering what is behind the next door,
particularly the beautiful or forbidden ones.

I cannot call it a bad habit. I have seen too many
dazzeling doors and archways, each with a local color
so few get to see, save the owners, and the wanderers.

About this poem

I do have that tendency, to wander into places that if are not exactly forbidden, are not encouraged. Rarely have I been sorry.

The picture was taken in Rome.



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