Doors Close

I see the doors a-closin',

but I'm too sick to care.

I am just supposin'

that God don't want me there

in the place where I had dreams

that were not too bad,

but all is cool and it all seems

that I need not be sad,

'cause He done saved all my tears,

and, perhaps, yeah, all my hopes

from the young and wasted years

and I just gotta copes

until I meet Eternity

and He gives them back to me.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is RESULT.

What will be the end result

of everything you've tried?

We're rabbits from your top hats pulled,

and was your chicken fried?

Did your quest for Elvis' ghost

end up a spectral interview,

with The King as gracious host,

hardly scaring you?

Did you set out to find yourself,

get up from rocking chair,

place timid thoughts upon a shelf,

and find you were not there?

And at the last, did fading eyes

see the Christ who bids you rise?

Didn't know where I was going, there, but five minutes is five minutes.

Music from Bon Jovi, with Who Says You Can't Go Home

Sylvia says that where there's ice cream, that's home.