Locked Out

Searching drawers, I find the key,

old and rusted, abandoned by time,

it feels heavy in my palm, a remnant

of doors now sealed, memories locked tight.

A metaphor rusting in silence,

its edges rough against my fingers,

forgotten opportunities, places once bright,

a reminder of the paths that diverged,

questions stirring quietly in the dust,

as if all I sought was misplaced hope.