The Street of Red Doors

On The Street of Red Doors

On sunny days while out walking I often explore,
little streets that are different and quaint.
The best ones are old ones, of interesting lore,
the houses have style, but need paint.

My favorite, a street I discovered one day,
past a sharp little bend in the road,
save for the one at the end, the doors are all red.
There's a reason for that, it is said.

The street of red doors holds a story so old,
that it's almost too sad to relate.
Mostly women live there, in each house, all alone,
and they're weary of sadness, of conflict, and hate.

Since hearing the news that their love will be missed,
each has raised a red shield against this.
Now behind every door cries a voice full of woe,
Bring him back, bring him back, if for only one kiss.

Yes, I live on that street, the street of red doors,
and you might well have guessed
On the street of red doors I weep like the rest,
bring him back, bring him back, if for only one kiss.

2005 Elaine E. Deyo