The Key
In vain I search for a lost key, it is for the place where I hide my verse. I know; I know, there is a poem in there
about a Key; because it screams at me; and I have been asked to bring it to writing class.
But I cannot hear the turning of the key. So capricious is the Muse; sometimes, for no reason at all,
she lights my heart with the brightest stars; others it will let it pine in the darkest night…
In vain I plead, let me in… let me in
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Poetry for a Night Owl
www.owlnight.com
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