I've been losing keys as
long as I've been using them
like perfect clarity, a key
won't stay. If you can
keep it in your pocket

hey, you'll open doors
the same way every time.

But lose the key and 
you'll be sitting on the step
or emptying your purse.

So when I write I take
my wallet out and 
scatter coins to see
if perfect clarity could
have been hiding there.

I mean, I had it yesterday!
Why have I lost it now?
I really, really need it for this door!

this is the blank page called
the rest of your life

pick up the pen and write

the old story
on those brittle yellow pages
will no longer do for
this crisp place that is 
the future you will write
new stories for, in dark red
ink from veins of gold
that can no longer be
the limits of your vast
imagination

in the future there is love
unending, there is joy
unbounded, there is pain
with soft enfolding wings
and tears that streak
your face but do not run 
into the cup called shame

but water those white fields
with scarlet poppies where
the golden veins of morning
light the sky and you
pick up your pen and write