It opened so many doors
skeletal though in shape
my memories whirl
for a moment I escape
she had curly hair
a saucy cherub smile
she never got angry
well maybe once in a while
she gave me the key
it opened a world
was unforgettably hurled
the day that she left
tears rose like the Sea
I wanted to lock
every sweet memory
now this hangs to remind
of the door to her heart
it never is closed
though we live far apart
The key above does in fact dangle off the handle off an antique. It originally opened the doors in my grandparent’s home.
My grandmother the queen of storytelling and opening the imagination of a small girl.
This week’s prompt for Poet’s United Midweek Motif is Key
I also pulled this short story from my archives. This is the type story my grandmother would have told.
The boy’s hands had been frozen cold by the snow. He shivered wondering if he had the strength to return home. He looked at the key. So tiny yet full of life; he could feel it. As the gold key turned in the box, the key began to grow and glow. “I am warm,” the boy said in cheerful surprise.
The fire he had hoped for sprung up around the key, but the boy was brave and touched the fire without being burned. He now knew this was no common key.
Though many people in the presence of magic ask for something to ease their lot, the boy was content to hold the warm key and box. The box got heavier until the boy reluctantly set it down on the ground. He held fast to the curious box fearful it would vanish.
The box became hot as it ignited from the key’s glow. The boy continued to hold on tight. As the flame grew more intense, the box, which revealed itself to be pure gold, became clear like glass. The boy expectantly peered inside. The only thing he could see was a plain gold ring. He reached in through the fire, grasped the flame filled ring, and placed it on his finger.
An onlooker would have seen a most magnificent thing on that cold frosty morn. A key, a box, and a ring transformed a boy to a knight. The glow about him melted the snow. A kaleidoscope of color mingled with the fire, flowers sprung from the impotent earth, fruit sprouted on nearby trees, and life that had so long ago departed returned to the barren land.
Little did this simple boy know that he was chosen by the key for a mission. The knight would save many downtrodden soul in the cold, unrelenting world and provide golden hope for the besieged. Long after the knight was gone stories would be told, through the land, of the knight who carried warmth for all in his heart.
The Golden Key by the Fairy Tale masters the Grimm Brothers is the preface to this story.