The Paths of My Reward

A gift of my eighth birthday
A rest the root of my reward
I wander down a hallway
I see many a door.

I walk towards a pink one,
in the silence of my mind,
I won’t know until it’s done
whatever lies inside.

A key in the lock
turning, turning
Door opens
the handle turning, turning,

A wave of soft, bright music
a party “dancing track”
I like it, but I’m not in the mood
so I guess that I’ll turn back

A blue sad door glowing
I know what is inside.
I’m not going to open it though.
Don’t need that rollercoaster ride.

A purple door, a theme I know
drawn toward it as if by magic.
This is not my music though,
these words would be static.

A story, a song
echoing through eternity
all music and sound
resonating from a tiny pair of earphones.