Behind the red door
The family sat silently watching TV,
No words passed between them
This was the family all the neighbours admired,
They seemed organized, rich, happy and full of smiles,
But the silence, anger and unconcern just stayed hidden behind the red door.
Behind the blue door sat Mrs. Y,
Alone with her dogs, and some bottles of wine.
Known to her neighbours as the successful lawyer
Her family were gone and were not coming back
She spent more time climbing up the corporate ladder
No kind word for another,
And now alone in her house she sat
Waiting for something, I don’t know what,
Her loneliness stayed behind the blue door.
Behind the white door a poor family sat,
Not much money but rich in love,
The happiness filled the house like a light.
The other neighbours felt sorry for them.
The only ones without a car,
So many children dressed in rags
But theirs was a joy to behold
The love they shared was beyond compare
Behind the white door.
Behind the yellow door a lady sat crying
Her husband just came and gave her a beating,
The first of the day but not the last,
He was a man of great standing
Loved by his followers and supporters, always ready to help
His wife always looked smart,
A perfect wife in all respect
But no one knew what happened behind the yellow door.
Behind the purple door a young man sat,
With a gun and a bottle of pills,
His parents had nagged him to carry on the tradition
To be a doctor or a lawyer but it was not in him
Nothing he said would make them understand that his love was to be a musician
After a family fight at home last night he decided to take his life
This is the one thing they can’t control
Now I will decide what to do with my life
The gunshot rung out!
Behind the purple door.
Behind the brown door
Two old people sat
They had been together over fifty years
Their children all grown and grandchildren too
They loved life and were full of joy
Every moment the phone rang it was a child
Asking how they were and showing love
You get what you give and it shows
From the happy family that sat behind the brown door.
Never look at people with envy,
You don’t know what burdens they carry,
And even if you judge them harshly.
Your problems may be more than theirs
But if you look with envy and hate
You attract the same to you
Your life may not seem good to you
But someone outside is envying you
Behind every door the story will unfold
And one day it will all be told
© MTDFebruary 2005