Tarnished Brass

The little brass button, dull with time,

it caught the sun, a faded chime.

I pressed it once. A muted sound,

like hope just hitting common ground.

I waited. Heard a creak inside,

some movement, trying to hide.

I pressed again, a sharper plea,

just silence, staring back at me.

No light came on, no curtain moved.

The simple fact, again, was proved.

Sometimes the door stays shut, you see,

and no one answers, not for me.