The Doormat

The proverbial doormat
sits outside the door.
Same place. Always there.
Every boat needs to moor.

She doesn't ask to be let in,
into your beautiful home,
happy outside with the dirt, herself -
her solace, her home.

You shake off your dirt,
you rub it all into her,
while she takes it all;
even arrows need a quiver;

You'll find her at your door,
whether it's open or closed,
for the world needs doormats,
who live their lives by the door.