Doors - Poem

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.