Just something I whipped up today…An Ode To A Doorknob
Well rounded and depending on the day, brightly shining from the sun’s brilliant bronze cacophony.
Sometimes you’re cold, at other times you’re too hot to touch. And there are times when you’re image reflects much brighter than any mirror could ever hope. And then, there are also those times that you’re so smeared with dirty prints and dustiness, that nothing can be seen at all.
We touch you, and each time you allow us in. Or you don’t.
You touch us; each time you let us out. Or you won’t.
When you’re working you never seem to move.
Yet when you’re working, you always seem to move for those who take the time to turn and see. And still, because of our love or neglect, you, like us, change completely, again and again, through the ins and outs, cyclicality persists, again and again and through and through.