Through the ember door,

I found lava dancing across the ground,

A dying fire

And a lonely spark.

Through the green door,

I found the clean scales of snake’s belly,

The hateful envy of a jealous person,

The green vines hanging from my house.

Through the blue door,

I found the raging sea crashing against the rocks at Troon harbour,

The cold of the Antarctic biting at my fingers,

And the hollow feeling you get when you say goodbye.

Through the orange door,

I found the cold sunshine of a winter morning,

The orange tip of a pencil carefully weaving across my page,

The sun as hot as a roast chicken in the oven.

Through the white door,

I found the boredom of watching wet white paint dry,

The comfy clouds high in the sky above the school,

Through the yellow door,

I found the relaxation of a water bottle sitting in the sun,

The yellow coat of a miserable boy on a miserable day,

The amazing feeling of sand between your toes on a lazy afternoon.