The Skeleton Key
I remember well the key that unlocked my Mam-maw’s shed door,
It hung by a string, just out of my reach, on a nail at the
backdoor,
It had a peculiar shape, yet simple and heavy in my hand,
If I successfully unlocked the door myself, oh I would feel so
grand,
My cousin and my sister hoped I would miserably fail,
Like when we raced to the mailbox to see who could get the
mail,
In the extreme heat of summer, the doorknob would almost
burn,
And If I did not open it soon, they would get a turn,
I carefully aimed the key toward the oddly-shaped keyhole,
I wanted to show them I could do it, that was my ultimate
goal,
I twisted the knob impatiently, I’m sure you understand,
The smooth doorknob was hard to turn with such a small-sized
hand,
Suddenly, the door swung open, and I gave a little shout,
I knew that I could do it; I didn’t have a doubt,
I soon found out the key I used has a name unusual to me,
Strangely enough, it is fondly called a Victorian “skeleton
key”.
Tammy Harvey Written: 11/9/2017
🗝🗝🗝🗝🗝🗝🗝
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