As a city girl, I saw too many doors before.
I felt unsure, if I could look anymore.
On one fine evening, I looked around,
I gasped at the diverse doors I found.
Many door windows displayed playful patterns,
their stained glass glittered like diya lamps and lanterns.
Some were stained with orange and olive-green glass.
Or was the green more like emerald grass?
One door was painted like a mango sorbet.
It lightened up my gloomy grey day.
The sorbet tasted light, fresh and sweet,
with hints of happy saffron heat.
Another door window wore a blue and red tulip,
which clipped me with its powerful grip.
The tulip stung me like Spiderman’s web shooter,
I thought the mango door was cuter.
One white door seemed sober and stiff,
with his well-groomed moustache and quiff.
I hope he flips his frown and sips a brandy,
then he will feel as dandy as a butterscotch candy.
I almost ignored a navy-blue door.
But before I could dismiss it as a blah and a bore,
I chuckled at an out of place smiley face, painted red.
My smile felt like icing spread across bland bread.
I will now deviate from doors to a gate.
Who knew gates could also look so great?
This black gate held an exquisite circlet of gold.
I wonder what other manmade marvels will unfold.
Along with birds, flowers and nature,
I must learn to praise architecture.
Then my poems can help me appreciate
why my Urban World is so great.