Sometime Door

I must go through the door

sometime

but there is so much more to do

in this little room

I don’t just sit here

children grown with children

gardens harvested

students off to save the world

I’ve rearranged the furniture a few times

scary and stimulating for

prosaic and practical

grasped for the familiar

learned the hand that holds the shield

still succumbs to time

Sought solitude

feared loneliness

concentrated

meditated

traveled

returned to still me

Sometimes

when the walls press inward

when that word I know well

the one that belongs in my poem

refuses to reveal itself

I wonder, is it time?

What if stories go untold?

If poems remain unwritten?

I stand by the door

reach for the handle

but this old room is comfortable

perhaps I should just rearrange the furniture

one more time

Prompt: The Door Goes Both Ways

Form: Triquain (Did not use)