THE KEY

I wrote this poem in 1968 sitting in my room of orange shag carpet, bright blue walls, I wrote this in 1968 after the 1967 Summer of Love. I TYPED ON AN ELECTRIC TYPEWRITER back then. Here are the papers from then, in cursive writing, So when anyone is checking for AI I have the papers.

The Key

Among the Long Songs Deep Journey

Among the long songs deep journey

I by chance picked up a tiny key

A little further along as I strolled on by time

There stood a gate that was left behind

I looked forward struggling

With what was left to see

But time kept on passing by me

I stepped back one, two, three

I looked for my key

Where, now where could it be?

Was it there hanging on a tree

Yes, there it appeared to shine bright

To climb was perilous and long

But time was rushing on

The life’s songs were being played

Just as falls were being paid

But through many scars

From many a fall

I held the key sitting bright and tall

I climbed, down, down, down

The key dropped, I fell to the ground

I stood there searching every day

For the key which stood in my way

Then there it was in my hand

Held high to see

The light shone forth upon the gate

That stood before me

written, created, edited by

Vicki Lawana

Trusselli Art

Outstages Cafe Art Studio

copyright 1968-

2026