Abeyance

 A snick of love is itself most unique
 Smiles grace the face of its key-holder
 As if unlocking a room full of treasure
 However, what of the other keys left?  
 It gets me nowhere- to be a spare key
 On someone else’s key ring in waiting  
 To see if I’ll become selected someday  
 Am I better off being a door that’s lost?  
 Or lock that eventually rusted… in time?
 
 Poet of the Light © 2020
 
 
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