Keyways

This poem helps to explain the concept of this series.

 

“Strange then, that this should be our last time together.

Standing in line at the locksmith’s

waiting for a set of your keys to be cut

so I can visit your flat when you’re out

and take back all that’s mine again.

 

Useless now, I understand, to try and unpick the months back to that second when, for the first time, one of us made a turn that failed to dock, went nowhere, stuck half-way, leaving us

waiting the expected click, which never came.

 

So strange then, that we should do this now, this cutting of keys, just when we’re changing all the locks.”

 

Keyways, Owen Sheers

Done