The Lady, Lake, And Locket

At the bottom of a lake rests a locket
Nestled between sticks and stones,
Hiding among mud and bones.

Its antique gold, rusted and cold
Missing the beat of a heart
And the touch of a tear.

The protest of a rescinded dream
Reflected back in the reoccurring scene
Of a lady, lake, and locket.

Once glistening and open,
Adorned with polish and sheen,
Now lies where light forgot it.

Time itself denied a glimpse into realms protected within,
A shell of reasons prevent a pry,
But what won’t let out won’t let in.

This treasure at her chest closing,
Well that’s a dangerous thing,
How safes become prisons.

Now this moment’s the key
Yet she’s asleep to the feeling
The feeling of which, will free her from dreaming.

Its golden glance, a glimmer in darkness
That sparkle, that shine, treading water in time
She waits at the surface, to plunge into contrast.

A tossed gift, once revered, she sought it
So that one day she could feel again
How easier it is to open than to lock it.