Email Poem

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Poem

Lying dormant on the desk
  objects inanimate
Each with a story it could tell
  some quite intimate...

The key that opens the front door
  ten thousand times or more
Trusted tool of man and wife
  witness to domestic strife

A pen that writes without a hitch
  of affairs and fantasies
Should it resort to crude blackmail
  O, Lord, the casualties

A paperweight that holds down bills
  due some time ago
Pick it up and hear the groans
  down in the stack below...

These objects with their poker faces
  conceal lean times, dark places
Pick one up, lend an ear
  juicy tales and tidbits you may hear

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