One Poem by Bruce Fabian Mancevice

The Key and the Box

What would you do, said the little key
to the teak-wood box, except for me?

The teak-wood box gave a gentle creak
To the little key, but it did not speak.

I believe, said the key, that I will hide
In the crack down there by the chimney side,

Just so this proud old box may see
How little it's worth except for me.

It was long, long afterward in the crack
They found the key, and they brought it back.

And it said as it chuckled and laughed to itself,
Now I'll be good to the box on the shelf.

But the little key stopped with a shiver and shock,
For there was a bright new key in the lock.

And the old box said, I am sorry you see,
But the place is filled, my poor little key.

{Poem by Bruce Fabian Mancevice}