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"You Can't Come In!"

It was raining,
He was all wet.
He kept wiping his feet
On the "Welcome" mat
As if to say,
"I'm coming in."
She stood in the door,
Dry, blocking him.
His mouth motored on,
His teeth wiped their little feet
On his doormat tongue,
Blah, blah, blah.
She shut her ears off,
Turned off her eyes
And slid the door shut.

Does this say anything to you?

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
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Comments


  • myrataal silver member
    October 11
    Edit | Reply

    There is no door so blocked ...

    as the door of the unappreciative soul.

    Love you, Mike. How have you been?

    XX
    Myra


  • Hikari Lady
    September 11

    Edit | Reply
    Wahhh!! This was wonderful! I liked it or some reason, it has a way to speak to the reader and I could picture every movement and how she stood there by the door with a mocking look upon her face. Very intresting write, indeed. Thanks for sharing.

    Love
    ~Noor