They shut long ago
when you weren't looking.
The knocking ceased, when
somebody hung a DO NOT DISTURB
on the once shiny door knob
There is silence and sometimes
a creaking when you climb the stairs.
The stairs overlook a forgotten corridor
where you'd once count your stash of juicy fruit
or kiss your lover
or sometimes a stranger
and once your own best friend.
or yell 'I'll be back in a while..'
Only, it was quite a while
In the meantime your mother prepared dinner
roast chicken and salad sprinkled with a bit of parmesan
the way you liked it
after which she waited
on that very corridor
Until the winds changed
and you came upon that shut door
Only this time you knocked
instead of barging in (and throwing your bags and keys)
or sneaking in (a shoe in each hand)