She is basic and sturdy
like the doors of an old farm house
Painted over a hundred times through the years
Solid white now, even the old brass door knobs
that were otherwise black from age
and endless twisted turning
She is a plank of a woman
Not beautiful or ornate
More so wide and reliable
and solid as a tree, rooted to this house
and its memories
She is still strong and useful
Just not so forceful or intentional
It’s not as important anymore
To emphasize and make points
Slamming about, setting things in order
She is no longer quite as significant
But functions well all the same
creating quiet or welcoming company
Just not with the authority enjoyed in the past
Maybe a little creaking now too
If you visit, you may keep her closed
she will still protect and warm the room where you sleep
If you prefer an open encounter instead
she will draw you into the flow of other rooms
like an interesting conversation
She will open and close as you desire
With a current of kindness and hospitality
a wooden but purposeful soul
Nothing more really
❤️🧡💛💚💙💜