Abandoned on the table
Surrounded by dark wood
They form a tableau … a vignette
Different shapes and colors
On the same ring
Each serves its own purpose.
A brass key opens the front door
The tiny one goes to a suitcase
Taken on a road trip. My daughter
Needed a break from school
I needed her all to myself.
Maybe we'd learn to breathe
Together.
The silver key opens a shed
Where we store debris
We might use again.
Instead we'll run it to the dump
Clearing away all that history
The kids won't have to when we're gone.
There's a mystery key
Maybe to the house that burned
Wiped from the land
Only a leveled square gives a hint.
Will the next house be haunted
By our laughter and midnight tears?
A little plastic tag informs
Some EMT that someone
Waits to be rescued.
There are three car keys
One takes us exploring back roads
Another car lies in state
Flat tire, broken windshield, lost gas cap
Patches from Zions, Arches, Bryce
Our daughter's escapes.
A giant fob locks and unlocks doors
Its red button often pressed in error
Sends the car into fits and squeals
Alerting all of eminent danger
The panic button… just in case.