Singing To A Door

to a lilting eastern euro- polka

I'm just ....
It's just....
We're just....
Singing to a door
Lunatic fringed
Swinging unhinged
Squeaking forlorn
 In the smouldering morn

My heart left ajar
After the jam
Fingers and toes
Stabbed on a rose
In old Amsterdam

Different striking poses
One opens as,
The other closes
The door
We all adore
We scoff and chortle as
We amble through the portal

Naku noa na

Otis Mace, Guitar Ace

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