Alone he swings breaking silence
Just above the floor,
Carved with names and covered in gum
The purple rusty door.
Children liked to kick him then
But alas no more
Life wasn’t very pleasant
For the purple rusty door.
Through rain and hail he shielded them
Those beyond the door,
The ones who never appreciated
The purple rusty door.
His was a life of thankless service
Of solitude and dirty paws,
A life of comings and goings
For the purple rusty door.
Now he hangs out the back
Just above the floor;
No one ever misses him
The purple rusty door.
Danny Matier 