Sliding Doors

They're kissed by the breath of the breeze, of the air

And the sliding doors slide, but there's nobody there

There's nobody there; is it a fault or the breeze?

That opens and closes them with occasional ease

There's somebody there, they're sat on reception

She laughs to herself about the harmless deception

'They're opening and closing and all by themselves'

She calls out to a non-visible somebody else

She's transfixed by the doors, unaware of the silence

From the back office, where there's no one in finance

It's just her and the doors and the lights of the foyer

Illuminating the void, where there's naught to annoy her

The sliding doors slide, they're opening and closing

What to do next is the question with which she is posing

There's a whirr of a motor, of an electrical manner

Clearly heard without the usual vociferous clamour

They are there; they're morphing like mist and approaching reception

But she's as blind as a dupe to their transient deception

'They're not doing it now, they've stopped by themselves'

She calls out to the non-visible somebody else

She's still watching the doors, when her skin starts to crawl

The temperature drops and her mind's in a squall

She glimpses macabre reflections in the glass of the foyer

All briefly illuminated, but enough to appal her

She screams herself hoarse, she shatters the silence

Scrambles to the office, but there's no one in finance

She seals the door, slamming it shut

Holding the handle and she jams with a foot

They are there, they have come, the dead who were the living

And she cries as she succumbs, as she yields, as she gives in

'The door it's opening; and it's opened by ourselves'

She whispers in the void of the dark, for there's nobody else

They're kissed by a breath that is death and not the breeze of the air

For those caught alone the sliding doors slide, 'cause there's somebody there

There's somebody there; it's not a fault or even the belligerent breeze

That opens and closes them with such ominous ease