The poor locksmith who makes
master keys very skilfully
on a street corner
under a shady tree.
Different characters visit him
for urgent matters
offer him a small note
praise his work
and run away.
The poor man's shack is unlocked
nothing remained except a rickety bench
and few rusty padlocks.
His beloved wife left him a long time ago
and rest in peace a nearby graveyard.
His well-to-do children forgotten the domicile.
I am sure that one day he makes a master key
to open the door to heaven.
nimal dunuhinga
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/master-key/
