A Frost-y Retreat

The Lockless Door

by Robert Frost

It went many years,

But at last came a knock,

And I thought of the door 

With no lock to lock.

I blew out the light, 

I tip-toed the floor, 

And raised both hands

In prayer to the door.

But the knock came again

My window was wide;

I climbed on the sill

And descended outside. 

Back over the sill 

I bade a "Come in" 

To whoever the knock

At the door may have been.

So at a knock

I emptied my cage 

To hide in the world 

And alter with age.