This is a long poem but I hope you like it.
The Key
Travelling alone
in company,
down
various smoky
city streets.
Occasional
village hall
country lane,
local pub.
Seeing architecture
crumbled
brick work
well worn
pavements,
purple foxgloves
intoxicating scent of
tangled honeysuckle.
I recognised all these
they were familiar to me.
A void
nourished
with chocolate
clothes,
people, “things”
no-one told me
how
to fill
that hole.
One day
I stood
by a
well worn
door
knocked,
asked
to enter.
I imagined
a key
was required.
I saw
numerous
ornate brass
gold,
I toured
antique shops
Bric a brac stalls.
I was looking in
the wrong place
the key
was a name
so much more,
how then
to find
the key.
Most perplexing
the more I searched
You,
the Key,
revealed yourself,
to me.
You are the key
the key
to my heart
the key to
the fullness
of life
itself.
The Key.
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Poetry reflecting life's journey
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