I grasped at the knob it wobbled again

I grasped at the knob, it wobbled again,

a reminder of things that don’t always remain.

This door holds a weight that I need to keep closed,

like secrets and fears, in a chamber enclosed.

It twists and it turns, a fickle embrace,

my thoughts whirl inside, lost in this space.

Every movement I make feels precarious, slight,

a doorknob that wobbles, holding dreams tight.