The Door

The Door

I wait
I feel the grain of the wood, touch the faded stain of years past
I lean against the smooth surface
And press my cheek against its edge

I wait
Emptiness, the sound of silence far too loud
Nothing stirs, no echoes of life
My cheek still rests against the smooth wood

I wait
Still no sound, still no life, still I wait
I begin to dance, a dance known to countless generations before me
A dance designed to appease nature

I wait
I no longer care for little details
My dance begins to grow, the urgency to complete it rises
Fiery impulses fill my body; I close my eyes and dance with more fervor

I wait
Hungry I am now to complete my dance
This fever inside me spreads until I can barely contain it
I shout, “Are you almost done in there? I really have to pee!”