Keys

In the kitchen drawer,
there are keys to doors
I can no longer open.

My grandma's house
boasts new bay windows
and the rhodedendron bush is gone.

Residents parking only,
so I cannot even stop
to try the lock.

What can I tell the neighbours?
I was born here, upstairs
in the back bedroom;

I am on a quest
back to the womb
- and there are stories to be told.

Not all memories are gold.
There are clocks for which I have the keys,
but their springs are over-wound.