Thought Wheel

Ann Chiappetta

new poem

| Filed under Guide dogs Poem


Lost Keys

By Ann Chiappetta



little metal Alloy trinkets

open tumblers

Strung together on rings, tied

To thongs or clipped to lanyards


Brass or silver toned

taste like cold blood

When clamped  between lips and teeth

While Struggling to open the door

After Marathon shopping sprees


One might surmise keys are replaceable — after all

What is a locksmith for?


hand slips into pocket

fingering objects

touching the stories

Represented in  physical sentiment’s


A pewter policeman’s hat, a  plastic starfish

A silver dog bone


If someone else found these keys, would they know? Would

They understand the life

The symbolism

The unrevealed memories


Of a charm for a   father

Or a mother, gone

and the bone

Signifying the bond and love

for a guide dog?


Just  trinkets

inserted into slots

And forever remembered with each turn

The opening of a  door

into a heart.




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