From the Pocket of a Dream


Some doors never open
As their lost keys
were never ever found
They remain closed
wrapped in cobwebs
covered by the dust of years

They withstand the rain resist the winds
The sun burns them
and storm beats against them
But the violence fails
all thiefs are helpless
The rust on their hinges
like a stubborn guardian
do not give in to pressure

Some hearts never open
Wrapped in silence drowned in illusions
they live quietly
learned to endure
the harsh words that hurt
Branded by pain
their life remains sealed

Some doors never open
They never get a visit by a sudden traveler
who happens to have the right key
and tired of an exhausted journey
enters into the warmth and rest

The right key for the right heart

you held it in your hand
long before our time

© Eclipse 2012
Image by desktopnexus


2 comments on “*Key*

  1. Martin
    April 16, 2012

    This imagery is so very true; I simply have to love this poem. I feel like I held the right key in my hand, but the lock was exchanged.

  2. cat.
    April 15, 2012

    Tried a few keys myself … getting tired of trying … my “trust fund” is exhausted …

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


This entry was posted on April 14, 2012 by in Poetry and tagged , , , , .
%d bloggers like this: