I was born in a room with doors
I could not open any of them
I let my mom whose name was Mary do it for me
All I can remember is others were always choosing the door

As I grew older there were big rooms with many doors
Small rooms had fewer doors
Some rooms I wanted to stay in for a long time
Others I could not wait to leave

Every time I entered a room, there were doors
Some I could open and others were opened for me
To my amazement doors sometimes opened or shut on there own
Each time I went through a door I was in another room

Finding the right door was the hard part
Many doors were big and inviting
A few were narrow and hard to enter
I always was offered a choice

Going into the big rooms with many doors was easy
Life was full of up and downs … Right doors… wrong doors
God knowing I could not do this by myself
Gave me a helper whose name was Mary

Every time I entered a room, there were doors
Some I could open and others were opened for me
To my amazement doors sometimes opened or shut on there own
Each time I went through a door I was in another room

It seemed like to often we were entering a nursery
Those were happy rooms full of joy
I'm sure I left a lot of dirty dippers in those rooms
If I could go back I'd do it again.

It seams that the happy rooms end far too quickly
And door choosing is all important
For now there is a family entering rooms together
As the children get older they choose their doors

Every time we entered a room, there were doors
Some I could open and others she would open
To my amazement doors sometimes opened or shut on there own
Every time we went through a door we were in another room

Much sooner than I expected my helper enter her final room with sickness and pain
Evan though I was holding her hand I could not go with her
In this room there was just two doors and one opened automatically
This happened because of decisions she made before enter this room

As the door closed for me it was an open door for her
I knew there was no more pain or sickness
No dimensions to this final room and time is no more
And of course no more doors

Every time I enter a room, there will be doors
Some I can open and others opened or shut for me
To my amazement the choice of doors seem easer now
Each time I go through a door I am in another room

Growing old has some doors opened for me
That I would not open on my own
A room with pain … a room with heart aches
However this is never greater than I can bear

When I enter my final room the door will open automatically
No dimensions to this room and time is no more
The streets will be of gold
And of course
no more doors