And all the doors looked all the same again
He stopped at number one to sneak a look
Here he heard the clearing of ash and soot
And all the doors looked all the same, again
He stopped, at number four he stood once more
To inhale the smell of Vim on tiled floor
And, all the doors looked all the same, again
He stopped at number nine, to check the time
The cuckoo clock confirmed with lonely chime
And all the doors looked all the same; again.
He stopped, but quickly passed by number ten
He didn’t want to hear her being beaten
And all the doors, looked all the same, again.
He stopped at the door with no number on
Shabby curtains, dark windows, life long gone
And all the doors looked. All; the same again.
They all stared and stared as he passed them by
Reflecting his gaze, numbering his days,
Plain portals, keeping secrets safe inside