The hour is young, the sky cerulean blue,
Doorknob cold as I reach and close the door.
The air is fresh as I step outside,
A cool breeze blows - wafting
Breakfast smells past my nose.
I stand alone outside my door,
And standing here - I hear.
The dull slam, a neighbour's door,
Muffled sound, an engine's roar,
Tinkling wind chimes in the breeze,
Rustle - leafless trees.
As I stand outside my door,
I realize little time has passed.
Yet, in this short space of time
I've come to appreciate
The intricate nature of this space.
No plane or train did I take.
I opened the door, then the gate,
I stood, stared, listened,
Pondered, and considered the sights,
The sounds from all around, far and near,
They were always here - but I did not hear,
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