Sunday Poem: A Key

Plopped out of your pocket

Steely and shiny, a solitary key.

With a chuckle and a sigh,

Through the corner of your eye

You murmured, “Ah! My key.”

 

In our last encounter

You had a stern silence

No words, no smile or tears.

An ice cream, I offered.

You gazed and said,

I was a good man.

You were a bonded girl,

kidnapped from across the bound

No friend, no acquaintance

No communication in a new town.

 

“Are things better now?” I wondered.

“It is calmer.

No unwanted turmoil, torture and bruise,

I have a phone, a few friends, a master with some mercy.”

Holding the key between your thumb and index;

You said with glee,

“Worthy to mention,

Now, I have a room and a key.”