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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