Twist the Handle

Scribble

Twist the handle, open the door -
only hoping the room can show more.
Show me the secrets yet undiscovered.

Show me the memories that remain covered.

I wish to find more, so
I slip my small foot onto the floor, and
I turn the corner hoping for more.

I continue to find a corridor where the plans continue to creak.
Looking at the floor, I find a candle at another door.
So, I decide to find out more, 

Over to the candle I smoothly sneak, 
Hoping that I don’t make a peep.

And, I continue to go through each door,

exploring, exploring, and ready to find more.

I come to the very last door,

and suddenly I find myself feeling quite sore.

I look down at my hands, only to find more.

More wrinkles, more wounds, more time.

Time has passed, more and more.

And, this is my last door.

Joy, fear, and nerves fill my pores.

The last candle continuing to urge my feet to hit the floor.

Twist the handle, open the door -
only hoping the room can show more.
Show me the secrets yet undiscovered.

Show me the memories that remain covered.

Reviews

[Light]

A rather nice poem in my opinion. I especially liked the first stanza. Though, perhaps, I feel like you've overused the rhyming on 'ore' here a bit. With all due respect, it made reading it feel ... repetitious, too predictable. But overall, it's a fair piece of work you got over here. I believe you made the right choice repeating the first stanza at the end.
Much joy, and keep up the good work!