The Chest

June, aged chest in the old firehouse. We wonder!

Among rusty broken walls and a primordial fire extinguisher

Beyond the cracks and venerable tiled matrix

Camera-eyes capture the ghost of the last ladderman

Obsolete doors calling ancient smoke jumpers

Beauty holds no bounds even for the versed

You don’t have to put on that red light

German medusa with the golden hair was smiling

But I was patient and waited:

Harmonica with the skeleton key

Stoutness by my side: unsealed

Opened.

The Chest

1 thought on “The Chest

  1. The Smiling Pilgrim June 20, 2016 — 2:54 am

    Now that is a pirate chest!

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