In the Beginning

Empty Square is the beginning,

Behind curtains tied back,

 windows, half closed eyes.

smaller rectangle in the middle,

the door, partly open, to let the air in.

Set above, colored, mostly inside the lines,

 steep triangle in crimson red.

The chimney, in the corner, still spits out

swirling, thin thread of gray puff.

Behind slightly leaning, white picket fence

A curving path, leads to a gate.

I push the gate open, how could I refuse to accept

its invitation, and step into the small yard.

The white cat, wraps around my legs a

scarf of silk, moans softly to get my attention.

I give the swing a gentle push,

and get lost in the well-known squeak.

Some dead leaves crunch,

I am so close, so close to the open door,

I put my hand on the latch,

 and the door shut tight.

                                      I know,

there was never a way back.