Waiting For The Door To Open

Youth gated, clasp rusted gate that bears age.
Hope awaits those hasp rasp squeaks.
Alas Rust-Oleum painted foyer after layer crusts,
Amid vines intertwined chokeholds bind tight.
Time cemented in place, one awaits then still awaits,
Opening listless, dew rhyme, squeezing tight.

Inside time tense wrought iron enclosures,
Time vaults needing living life combinations,
Adrift New Years that did not open anew side.
Sitting there wilted, pruning poetry’s empty spool twine,
In place placemat placement, one reeks out,
Aloud, thy piercing sharp, scream chisel.
Cry "Craw Hammer," do pound a door into submission.
But will it open, to let you in?
To the other side?