.…tend to get gathered

as we grow older.

Some days a hundred or more

and nothing to open;

others, a turn, and look!

acres and corners

of structures and loveliness.

Nothing goes less

well for the pocket, though.

Keys, then, can sometimes

grow like chains. A reign

of keys is no fun,

all cut up and out of the harsh eye of work,

no plastic but metal scathing

pockets, working in plates

and holed mechanisms.

But then there is the dearest key

that clicks. Push, and wait

till the door, no longer

reinforced, opens wider,

and wider.

(from “The Light Of Day (1)”)


What do you think?


Written by Jonathan Finch

Years Of MembershipStory MakerContent Author


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