Locks with no key still have purpose,

An essay will have more say.

A sports car gets more attention,

And always first is A.

But keys without locks have mystery,

And poetry holds more depth.

Old cars show humility,

And M stands strong at apex.

For without the found key, there’d be no garden.

And having no verse, there’d be no song.

With nothing old, there’s nothing new,

And without an M, the mind would be gone.

I am that key with mystery,

The missing lock still holding true.

Having no place, a dismissable waste,

If not for that robin of red and blue.

I am that poem with quiet voice,

And layers deep as snow.

The essay may seem, more important than me,

But if you see wisdom: then you will know.

I am that old car, rolling slow by,

The excitement around me now dulled.

Polish now dust, paint turned to rust,

But now the classic, traditional.

I am that M with nothing to change,

And little to say for my sound.

But holding the middle, the tiniest scribble,

Makes money, magic, and the profound.

So a key with no lock may lack the same purpose,

As a lock with no key may be seen.

And a poem may have smaller audience than

Those found at the essay’s great scene.

The new flashy car may be more widely sought,

And old be the lesser, it seems.

The strong letter A has more importance and say,

Than the M’s contribution is deemed.

But with second glance comes in second thoughts,

And anyone thinking will know:

Just because something may seem second best,

Doesn’t mean it has less than to show.