The Warmth of Dull Silver

A poem that extends beyond mere doorknobs.

You did not notice me this morning

But I was not surprised

Your ignorance was expected

You took me in your hand

A soft sweet caress

That ended with a cold release

Unloving

 

Perhaps I should tell you who I am

You would never manage to guess on your own

As I’m quite certain your thoughts never linger on me

I am only a tool

A thing used to get somewhere

And once I’m turned and released

I no longer matter

 

I am the doorknob you touch each morning

Once so shiny and silver

Now dull with your careless fingerprints

I am round, quite ordinary

With a small opening where a key belongs

But don’t make the mistake of thinking

That I am boring

 

I assure you, I am very important

Without the knob, how could you open the door?

All it takes is a simple turn and I unfasten the door

You are free to pass

Without me, how would you walk by each morning?

And yet I feel in the coldness of your grip

That I mean nothing to you

 

There was once a girl who passed through here

On her way to the place that lies beyond

When she touched me, I felt that she

Knew warmth as well as you know the cold

She made even my dull silver feel like a warm color

I thought of her last night and wondered

When she would return