Half Painted Door

 A half painted door,

Untold stories did unfold,

Green, must be grandfather's choice,

Otherwise I would've painted it bright.

.

The strokes never reached the end,

Mid-way collapsed the structured planning,

Now, I see a lock there,

Connecting the dots of invisible sphere.

.

Maybe they didn't need the door

To be painted anymore.

That part was almost clear.

.

Still,

While crossing the path,

It attracts the eyes, 

Like a masterpiece,

Spewing half-felt emotions,

Of those lovely strokes and memories in motion.

.

The other half is not visible here,

But with beetle-leaf spits,

From the shop alongside,

It's almost crimson,

Rising like flames.

So as the days pass,

Maybe we'll see a meeting in half.

.

- Raj Nandani