In the quiet of a dim-lit hall,
Stand doors with tales untold,
Their hinges creak with stories past,
Of mysteries waiting to unfold.
Each frame a guardian of dreams,
A threshold to the soul’s quest,
Where every knock and gentle push,
Invites the heart to rest.
They open wide to worlds unknown,
Whispering secrets of tomorrow,
Guiding the lost, the curious, the bold,
Beyond the realms of sorrow.
Silent sentinels of passage,
Holding time in wooden grace,
They watch over footsteps weary,
In their embrace, we find our place.