Half a door's a shadow
Half the door is mine
Half a thought means nothing
But you can keep what you find
There are stories untold
Half written
Half lost in time
Scuttling through the hours
And doors
And many matters in the grind
Need they be seized or held?
Or waited upon so that
They alight on your shoulders and palms
And be etched in another rhyme
Ready to walk the line
Ready to keep the time
Yours and mine
Worth every penny and dime
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