Sundays are for Poetry

22/30

We stand shivering at the door,
terrified and panicked
that we have lost the key.
We waste lifetimes
in the waiting
because in the haze,
the painted fog
our fear,
we forget
to check the handle
and disover
it has never been locked
at all.

            --- Tyler Knott Gregson
                 chasers of the light: poems from the typewriter series