Locks and Clocks

/Locks and Clocks We change locks like we change clocks, as flippantly as daylight dims, as easily as days grow slim; we try to bolt the sunlight out with combinations masked in doubt to shorter hours, as if we could feel like the conqueror who would shut out those close and dear to us who used to be the ones we trust. Clocks and locks are both the same as tokens in some wordless game to keep out fear and trusted waifs; our meager souls no longer safe; the locks have failed and so the trust is gone and turned to flaking rust; the moths have eaten through those things we hoped to keep brand new; again our dark night will descend and we will once again offend. Like locks and clocks we change our friends (if ever we could make amends for things we did with ignorance in place) and do not receive the coveted embrace from absent friends who come and go as night to day diminishes its glow; where hope runs true within, returns to come around again to lengthening days where suns shine bright, and will dismiss the darkness of our night.