Every open door

I always sit facing the door
thousands of booths
and just as many sunsets
restaurants with bells on the door
and a cold hand that longs for the warmth of yours
I hear the bell jingle

and I always look toward the door
granted I haven’t a clue what you look like
not the faintest idea
but my heart doesn’t know that
and neither do I

each pretty girl I see
plays the part in my mental drama
I dress them in white with a veil
and I undress them too
but somehow, someway
they’re never you

can’t say that I like the waiting game
but then again, I’m the one who claims
“anything worth having is worth waiting for”
I know you will be worth the wait
but until the day I meet you
I’ll look toward every open door