The Swinging Door!
The hands and arms and little feet
wriggle endlessly.
The lumps and bumps and faded looks
sigh in lowered tones.
The gurgled giggles gently float
within a room of smiles.
The heaving, heavy laboured legs
slowly plod the floor.
The fragrant air so full of spice
engulfs with perfect peace.
The purple musky staling breath
dulls in dreary dread.
The door swings open every day,
new sparkle enters in.
The door swings closed every night,
old weary wanders out!
Joy Weare.
9th June, 2006.
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