The Key
I hold inside my palm an old bronze key
Covered in dust.
I am sitting inside my grandmother’s house
The week after she died
And I am missing her.
I don’t know what this key opens,
I have never seen it before.
Maybe it opens a music box filled with dancing figurines
And softly plucked tones.
Maybe it opens a jewelry chest
Filled with treasured emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds.
Maybe it opens a cupboard door
Behind which lies a million different teas
From all around the world,
China, India, Japan,
Each with a different flavor, smokey and sweet, dried summer grass.
I walk around her home
Trying the old key in any space it will fit
Gently turning it but never opening anything.
Until I think to open my heart
And a million memories come pouring out
And I can not stop the love and tears
And I know I have found what the key opens.
By the Pond
In a pond sat a frog.
He was croaking on a log.
The dragonflies buzz
By cattail fuzz.
And as I listen to the sparrow’s song
I think, this is where I belong.
Writer’s Life
I sit by a window filled with rain
waiting for the words to fall out my brain
And onto the paper under my pen
Because it is not until then
That a story will start to surge
And the world and me will begin to merge.
The forgotten Key
Hidden behind some debri
Was an old chipped key.
What does it open? Let’s see,
It might set a genie free.
Maybe it reveals a circus run by a flea.
Might it not lead to a village worshipping a bee?
Or it could tighten a robot’s knee.
Or even unlock a fridge filled with brie.
What if it opens a chest full of tea?
Or the door to a city under a tree?
Maybe it belongs to the King of the Sea
And if you dive down and return it to he,
Then he might give you a treasure with glee.
Summer Strawberries
I admire their bright red skin covered in seeds
Like freckles
And their soft green hats
Made of leaves.
I squish them in my fingers
When I pick them up
And their vibrant juice
Stains the swirls of my fingertips.
I rinse my hands
Under the cold water
From the hose
And then take a long drink
On this lazy summer afternoon.
The River Rock
I went down to the river and found a rock,
snuggled in with the others below the dock.
For a moment I listen to the water talk,
And then head home to end my walk.
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