Do I keep things out? Or in?
I cannot tell. I would not say.
Forged bars are where doors
would compose an opening.
I held the blacksmith’s hammer.
And tongs when I breathed fire.
Placed each bar in tedious fashion.
A wartime plan.
Do I lock the door against? Without?
I select. I would indulge.
A secret keepers combination.
A brave companion.
Shelley Rae Bell
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