Change Is A Rogue

A rusted padlock, two keys in a trinket,

And a defunct old clock that needs to be reset.

I grab the hour’s needle and down it goes gently,

It springs back, I sigh, I heave up my trolley.

Farewell, amigo, for change is a rogue,

A charming little story, then a sour epilogue.

New hopes and new joys, I’m comfortingly told,

A travesty, this market – where your memories are sold.

My home, my speechless friend, you did hear much

Of my rues, of my highs, of my glories and such,

You echoed my triumphs, you vaulted my fears

In the cracks of your walls that guarded my tears.

I scoffed at your dwindled lamp, at an oft leaking tap,

But you know, in the evenings, solace lay in your warm lap,

Change is a rogue, and I can’t help but comply.

Do you feel the way I do? Do you silently cry?

I write your unsaid answer on the walls of my heart,

I stash away some memories, with some I must part –

A rusted padlock, two keys in a trinket,

And a defunct old clock that needs to be reset.