Poem -

the grandfather clock

under the grandfather clock is where you hide the key -

you were keeping it safe from the likes of me -

so i waited until you were gone and i slowly make my move -

i dont know why i do this i have nothing to prove -

#

i have the  key in my hand but witch door dose it fit -

do i go down this corridor where all the lights are lit ?

i try door´´s left and right but with this key they just dont open -

getting frantic and frustrated i don´t know how i am coping 

#

door´s up door´s down witch way do i turn ?

my feet are getting tired and my toes start to burn -

big door´s small door´s all shapes and sizes -

this key fits nothing it´s about time i relized it -

#

i dont know what this key is for so i am giveing in -

i´ll ask my dad when he gets home that he wins again -

o you poor silly girl and i am sorry i am late -

but that key is under that  grandfather clock to keep it standing straight 

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