If I were a lilac door,
I would give you
the strength of a solider in the eye of an endless storm,
the warmth of a fire on a crisp November morning,
and the heart filled with a never ending love.
If I were a scarlet door,
I would show you
the beginning of an angering rage,
the story of a broken soul,
and the stairs to the unforgiving ending.
If I were an emerald door,
I would feed you
with envy and jealousy,
with questions longing for answers,
and sour green grapes.
If I were a daffodil door,
I would sing you
the buzz of the bees,
sweet melodies of sunshine,
and the joyful tunes, of the butterscotch sunrise.
If I were a cyan door,
I would take you,
to a endless field of bluebells,
to a battle of of an arctic flame,
and to the depths of the darkest oceans.
If I was a were a pink door,
I would lure you,
to the blossoming willow tree,
to a lake of peaceful flamingos,
to the pink moon’s eye.