The Doors
The charming face of apple tree this morning
has brought me here to this page to interpret
that the moment I look at those deep eyes
a machination of pine forests pulls me into
And as for the deep red shutters at the front door
they, even when closed, seem to motion at me
into the clouds of a see under a full moon
A hypnotizing call I am afraid of answering
When the shutters are ajar in a half smile
it's a wild flame of deep orange colors
ready to accompany me for miles and miles
while pushing me deep into its tipsy odour
A thousand birds come out as I stare at her
a current in the spine as the branches begin to stir
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