The door

As I left my home, I looked at the front door,
The same door,
But it wasn't the door that meant something,
It was those the door had seen.
There it stood,
A strong, thick, imposing door,
A door that was frozen in time,
One that had a thousand stories to tell,
It smelled old,
It was good company, it was trust,
It was a door of its word.