Hasn't been opened in some time
Covered in moss from years of rain
It smells somewhat of high tide.
You go out to the backyard
Armed your garden tools
To remove moss, rock hard
You've made the error of prior fools.
The hinges seem rusted
And covered with lime
The bolts seeming crusted
Through great lengths of time.
A door long forgotten
With life's menial tasks
A friend long forgotten
With an ex-wife's many masks.
With the manipulator discharged
The lock reveals itself
Shiny, new, and unharmed
And you think to yourself...
"How could this be?"
As you insert the key
The hinges creak and the door swings ajar,
And a previous life you find again.
A voice speaks from inside
"Is that you, old friend?"
The voice sounds raspy, as if trying to hide
"Yes, it is, may I come inside?"
An old friend,
pushed aside by lust
their care for you never did end,
and the moss comes off with your newfound trust.
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