he who knows the key

Clanging in the bowl as I drop them. Keys.
Eight seven six five four three two one.

I hold them together in a key ring..
.. like chapters of a life sewed together.

You lose them.. you change them..
you forget them.. you seek them..
you label them to a box hidden somewhere..
you give them away freely in trust..

"Where are my bloody keys?"

It is desperation when the mind forgets.
It is life to one who stands in shackles.

And behind the gate you are safe.
The bolt keeps you secure.

You make good calculated choices..
yet sometimes you throw the key to the wind
and claim freedom and your dreams..

Come to think of it, he said..
the key.. it opens and closes..

So as it opens and welcomes the sunshine in..
.. it must shut the door sometimes.
To keep away the unexpected downpour and the cold.

So will you turn the lock and hide the key?
And run the risk of forgetting where you place it?

Oh the possibilities of weekend late afternoons...
The pleasurable treat of curling up in the couch.
And to realize the truth. That he who knows the key..

.. holds your heart.

Keys photo credit: Joel Almeida