THE KEY
By Janice Veldman
She keeps it around her neck
Easy to find
If she remembers
An antique skeleton key
She holds it
Carefully
Rubbing it
As if it were
Aladdin’s lamp
Her lips pert
She appears to be in a faraway land
No one speaks for fear of her losing her thought
She is searching
Ready to unlock
The precious
The dear, fond, precious
Memory