A poem about the afterlife.
It was meaningless, ineffectual.
Hung with robust hinges.
That door could have been made of air.
Their spirits passed through the iron effortlessly.
Two years since the calamity,
Young love cut short by crunching metal.
John and Sarah, cast into obliteration.
A vapor of their former selves.
They rejected the dazzling light.
"Let's go home beloved Sarah."
Now lovelier than in her body of flesh!
So they walked through the iron.
"Alas Sarah, touch you I cannot!"
No embrace, no declaration for desire.
"I will find a way my sweet; I promise!"
"There is no way, no path dear John."
For nine years they unlocked that door.
Nine years of laughter, tears and passion.
Sweaty, shuddering bodies in blissful harmony.
Now only words to unite them.
"We may as well enter the tunnel John."
So with ghostly hands enfolded they entered the light.
"Promise me we'll be together again?"
"We will Sarah, we will. Our love will never die!"