The Door To Another Century This is a true tale, One hotel in Syria, Each one at our door long ago, Writers, Queens, Emperors at our services, A mirror to all activities in single of it, On a wooden box to reach a height I served, So small to time yet I attended to them, I cleaned the tables and chairs, But staying with a uncle, Their taste is here with us, And comfort of desires once they're here, It is our hotel, And it's has been a gravity of networks to states, From here war is mould while the writers in act, Queen on bed for she tired of carriage of horse, Far away they came to here, In culture, you know their land, For a reason they here, you see in act, With pens, swords, guns, each holds, Rooms for Emperor in decor, But age against our hotel, Apart of me is here to served, But old I am today, Yet President hasn't come here, For Five stars is there century, Our hotel is a barrel palace in sight, Diplomats stick with wind of time, Writers are all in Skyscraper today, And time Dwi -Ojo Yusuf Abdulazeez

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