Lonely Key
In my room,
it still sits, on my bureau
holding most of my memories.
Opening the same door,
it was used for ten years,
and it grew tired.
Now it rests, lonely,
giving me no lock to open,
having no reason for it to be.
Labels: zalia r.
Lonely Key
Labels: zalia r.
2 Comments:
Hi Zalia,
I love poems that focus on one small object and then reveal how that small object is actually a very big, important symbol. Your poem leads me to imagine stories about why the key isn't useful anymore. I'll bet there's an important story behind that. I can imagine this lovely poem being the introduction to that story.
Great writing!
Ms. Jones, a friend of Mr. Costello's from Louisiana
Nice job with this. It made me think of a locked diary or jewelry box, but I don't know if that's what you had in mind. I could picture it as something that once had great meaning for you but has outgrown its usefulness for now. Maybe someday after more time has passed, you'll be surprised at what it holds. I enjoyed your poem!
Post a Comment
<< Home