all shapes and sizes.

   It                               may

  be                                  a   

   rusty                      key to

     a pirates      chest or

            a fragile key     

                  to a 

                  heart.

                  For
                  you

                  see, it

                  doesn’t

                  matter

                  what shape it is, all that

                  matters is that

                  it unlocks something beautiful.

A key,

So special,

Can hold so much,

In just a few cm of metal,

Opens the locks,

Of everything,

It’s called a key.

It can open something new,

Something forgotten, something lost

Something unseen, something hidden.

A secret, treasure

A whole new adventure.

It can lock away history.

A key holds mystery and power.

Call them, and don’t be afraid.

Ask them the key to their flying,

Ask them how that key is made.

Gaze down to the blooms of the summer nights;

Look down to the petals so small.

Petals, the keys to their beauty,

And yet keys that, one day, have to fall.

Ask the artists, each painting a world

Of the picturesque key to their crafts.

The writers, twisting the could-have-beens —

What ‘key’ keeps them writing their drafts?

Look to the world all around you,

So full of its pathways to give.

And within all its things, even offbeat and small,

Are the keys that allow us to live.