Southend U3A - Writing for Fun

Writing for Fun

September 2023

It Didn’t Fit - Marie Day

As I was strolling out one day
I found a key along the way.
It sparkled, glittered, shone like gold.
A wondrous object to behold.

I scanned the road; I was alone.
So bending made the key my own.
Then in my pocket carefully placed
And so the puzzle then I faced.

This gleaming thing belonged for sure
In lock of box or in a door,
A treasure chest, a car which steers,
My mind was buzzing with ideas.

Onward at a faster stride
A castle tall in front I spied.
The castle gate was closed and shuttered;
I tried the key, dismayed I muttered,

‘It doesn’t fit.’ What could I say?
I turned and dragged my feet away.
Along the road I set to roam
But then I saw another home.

It was a manor built from brick.
I ran towards it at a lick.
The wooden door was closed to me.
No way to enter could I see.

I looked above, I searched below
For somewhere for the key to go.
And then a rusted lock I spied,
A keyhole centred to one side.

I turned the key within the lock.
It didn’t fit; another shock.
And so I trailed away again
Searching side to side and then

A poorer home came into sight.
The key might fit; I’m sure it might.
So trembling, key in hand I went
Trying to feel more confident.

Again I rushed up to the door.
I tried the key, alas I saw
It didn’t fit. What could I do?
My mind was really in a stew.

And then from somewhere round the back
A voice called out with tremulous crack,
‘Come here my boy and speak to me,
I may have the lock that fits your key.’

Behind the cottage sat a crone,
She held a box in hands like bone.
The key I placed within the lock;
It didn’t fit – another knock.

My confidence was really low
But as I sadly turned to go
The crone her hand put on my arm,
‘Do not despair, stay cool and calm.’

Well, with those words she disappeared
And in her place a man with beard,
His whiskers hung right to his knee,
‘I think I know from whence your key.’

With renewed hope I followed on.
The man hopped forward and was gone.
I peered around and there I saw
A twisted tree – with open door!

Forward into the unknown
I sprinted as my hopes had grown.
The door slammed shut; the light went out.
The darkness made me spin about.

My hand clutched wildly in the air.
At once the bearded man was there.
A lantern in his hand brought light;
He grabbed my arm with all his might.

We stumbled up some stony stairs
To a small room with two old chairs.
The aged crone in one chair sat
And on the other a black cat.

Between the chairs a table stood
And on it was a chest of wood.
The golden key was in my hand.
This wasn’t how my day’d been planned!

Three pairs of eyes that I could see
In lantern light they glared at me.
Each seemed to say, those fearsome eyes,
‘That key must fit if you are wise.’

Holding my breath I placed the key,
Trembling and shivering – one, two, three.
I turned the key – I heard a click
But then it stuck – ‘Is this a trick?’

The crone scowled at my ashen face.
The man approached at rapid pace.
The cat’s green eyes grew large and round.
She pounced and hissed; a fearful sound.

‘It didn’t fit,’ I croaked with dread
Extracting claws from out my head.
I threw the key across the floor,
Then crone and man gave mighty roar.

They rolled around upon the ground,
The noise they made a hideous sound.
The cat joined in with claws unfurled.
The three revolved and twirled and whirled.

And while they fought to claim their prize
I rushed downstairs amid their cries.
The door below I barged straight through,
Sped up the road to pastures new.

When sure that my escape was true
I slowed my gait and roved anew.
Then in the road I saw a glow.
I wailed in horror, ‘Oh, please no!’

It sparkled, glittered, shone like gold.
A wondrous object to behold.
It was a key of golden hue.
But this time I knew what to do.

I walked on by and sped away,
There really was no more to say.
Interesting puzzle? Not a bit!
In MY life’s journey,
‘IT DIDN’T FIT!’