The Forgotten Door


I stopped my car halfway between
Atlanta and my destination
At a parking lot shared by a gas station and restaurant
To refuel both my vehicle and myself
The day was very bright and warm

The restaurant was very dim and cool
And as I entered, I saw red plush carpet and red walls
Red candles on every table and
A Gold shield behind the cash register in the front
There was a short buffet table in the back

It smelled like 1968
And the strangest feeling came over me
As though I had walked into a travel stop restaurant
45 years ago

I expected to see my mom and dad with their three little kids
My parents young again
And us kids either laughing or fighting
Or both

In a place I had no memory of ever being
Until that exact moment
When I suddenly remembered everything

And I remembered also
That every day at work
I walk past doors I’ve never opened

Maybe our memories and our minds
Have a lot of these doors
If we only knew
How to open them

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Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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