Unordered from thought’s floor a dozen doorways
Opened at the year’s close,
And through each frame a different bit of you,
And when approached a
Dozen more replaced them for my use
And exhorted me to choose.
So with a foot towards the nearest I
Tempted its escape
But it remained longer than the
Others and motioned closer,
And thinking me the winner
Of its interest I obliged,
Though only when its threshold stood a step
Away from me did I fully see the
Inside and recognize one of the many
Houses where I’ve cowered from
The future and I quickly wished it
Distant for another year.
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