The doors

Go and open the cyan door,

maybe there is frost,

building on the wall,

or an artist painting a fluorescent sea.

Go and open the ebony door,

clouds turned the colour of thunder,

and the trees cast dreary black shadows.

Go and open the rose door, pretty pink walls,

and blossom falling like snow.

Go and open the gold door,

sweet smelling honey dripping,

on to the mustard walls.

Go and open the tiger door,

sunset skies sway slowly,

and sun shining on the apricot flowers.

Go and open the cinnamon door,

chocolate cookies, hot coffee,

and fire burning in the fireplace.