A small, simple key catches my eye,
Standing out against my crowded keychain.
What should be inconspicuous, now a glimmer
Of familiarity tugging at my memory.

My fingers move over the worn, rigid edges,
Scratches replacing its smooth golden finish.
The need to find its purpose draws me in
As it calls me with its daunting disposition.

Tarnish concealing secrets in its grooves,
Both seemingly ordinary and compelling
In my palm, like a riddle waiting to be solved.
The answer resting on the tip of my tongue.

I turn the key, unlocking the door in my mind,
Letting the thought escape with the darkness.