Surplus Keys
A new lock needs new keys,
That click with a brand new ching.
They take the place of faithful friends,
As all-at-once their labour ends.
But what am I to do with these ?,
As I wind them off the ring.
They’ve served their turn and done their bit –
It’s not their fault that they no-more fit.
The lock they opened has been tossed,
They have no hole to enter.
Recycle them ? But that seems daft,
When free of rust and strong of shaft.
Could canny locksmiths not save cost
With a eco-friendly venture ?
To bring these homeless keys relief
By building tumblers round their teeth.
The new keys, though, are cheap makes
Whose doors have to be guessed –
They look alike, the whole damn ring,
With not a clue which frees which spring.
And the old are unwitting keepsakes,
Along with all the rest –
We cling-on to them all in vain,
Yet know they’ll never turn again.
Rhyming Couplets 