Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Swing doors


Swing doors


The corral doors blow open,
History walks in, then out.
It leaves in a hurry,
The stage rolled in, rolled out.
Quakers, all of them were,
Knees knocking when,
Guns were drawn in hatred,
Of another's rightful voice.
Periods of fruitlessness,
Sold a dram of paradise,
To travellers to an open land,
Combined in naiveties game.
Burst open again,
The haste to dance to drink.
To see the faces of happiness,
Coiled beneath the madams skirts.
Saloon days in poker faces,
The nights of Can-Can frills.
Doors swing shut on memory,
When cowboys fell in the dust.