Knock (Poetry)

I walked past the door,
to the first house we bought,
And I had the urge
to knock,
To see, if you would answer.
To see, if you would let me in.
But I held my hand
mid-air,
Contemplating,
As the thunder roared
and snow hit the ground.
After a while,
I lowered my hand,
and walked away.
Maybe, the winter
had made me cold.