in the lee

there is a key

that fits a lock.

the tumblers click

like the ticking

of a clock.

there is a time

that fits in between

what is mine

and where I stop.

there is a boat

that sits in a lake

fighting the current,

waiting for a dock.

there is a place

that we call home

no matter what we face

in the midst of our family

we can always feel alone.

the time to leave is before

the heart becomes stone.

for there is more than one key

more than one lock,

more than one face,

more than one clock;

more than one boat

looking for a dock.

there is time a to keep going on

and a time to stop…

there is more than one place

to call home.