Thursday, January 22, 2015

Old Hat

A little treasure box 
Rustic and old
From end to end
Dents and scratches
Show countless memories. 
Sealed as it should be
The bronze padlock
Rattles as I pull.
Around my porciline neck
A key black as midnight 
Gleams in the light from above.
Pointing the end down
Then with a twist
A click is made. 
Breaking the bond of the lock.
Dust flies like bugs 
And hovers like bees in a flower.
Below thick brass blocks with paper
Stick out; books containing adventures of old and romance lasting forever. 
Although love never found me
It's never favored my heart.
My treasures are old and rusty
Just as if I'm the chest
With no one to hold or love me
As a collector would.
I must wait for a while till it comes. 
I will face the disgrace when it comes.
I will overcome loves sting.

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