This poem, a sad melody, fills me with recognition. Where to begin, what to say?
Standing before the door, you go first.
Which door to open, which door to close?
One door at a time. Like in “Mystery Date” open the same door and another choice appears.
Too many beginnings.
This poem is a warning; stop, breathe, take a step back. Pick at the thread on the sweater.
Doors swing open and shut. Sweaters unravel.
Take a step in. Pick up a stitch.