The house is not silent
though there is no one home but me.
I roam these rooms wondering what
tomorrow will bring.

I have not yet crossed the threshold
out into the day.
It is cold and raining.
The world is a somber study in gray.

But there are others braver than me
who have ventured outside.
I hear doors open, shut,
engines,
trains passing me by.

My destination is more obscure.
I am reluctant to advance.
So I remain inside waiting
my ears straining for the slam.

Soon an answer will resolve into what
I am listening for,
the decision a willing captive to the
opening and closing of doors.