The Last Door

The email arrived, a pale blue flag,

while waiting for the kettle to sing.

Said my access was a broken twig,

that nothing more this service would bring.

It wasn't much, just news and dates,

a place I’d skimmed and scrolled.

But closing those digital gates

felt suddenly so cold.

A phantom click, a login screen

that shows no entry now.

Just emptiness where I had been,

a silent, final bow.