The click of the key
turning in the lock
is always a surprise,
as if I don’t belong,
or the key’s wrong.
The door opens,
the dust settles,
I make a cup of tea,
put my feet up and inhale
the scent of home.
Kim M. Russell, 14th July 2025
I’m happy to be returning to the dVerse Poets Pub today after two weeks off, missing my poet friends. Lisa is our host for the Monday Quadrille, our very own poetic form of just 44 words, not counting the title, but including one word provided by our host.
Lisa reminds us that, in poetry, ‘there is a pivot, or turn. On roads there are turns, where we don’t know what to expect around the corner. There is the turning in our hands of a pretty rock or seashell to observe its special features that drew us to it. When we are waiting our turn in line at the store, “next” is always the most thrilling place, isn’t it? Many of us remember the days of vinyl LPs and the ritual of placing the platter on the turntable and carefully dropping the needle. In playing board games, we take our turn and wait afterwards while others take theirs.’
Our word is ‘turn’, and Lisa has given us some excellent examples of poems that turn by Judy Ray and Janelle Tan.
writing in north norfolk 
such a potent metaphor that key in the lock moment – it leaves the reader hanging there momentarily
“as if I don’t belong,or the key’s wrong.”
and then the relief of entry and home
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Laura.
LikeLike
I sense a hint of quiet introspection in this poem, Kim! Gorgeous use of the prompt word ❤️❤️
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Sanaa.
LikeLike
Kim, didn’t you go for a visit to see your daughter and her family recently? I imagine you so perfectly within this poem returning home after one of the visits. Also I like the double meaning of returning to the Poets Pub after break. Such a lovely sensory poem with your voice so clear ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
I did, Lisa. I had a lovely time with ELlen and the boys, and I came back with a poem written by Lucas, which he performed in front of an audience!
LikeLiked by 1 person
❤ Poetry by your grandson and performed in front of an audience — it doesn't get much better than that.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your work is done!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for your appreciation, Lisa!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are most welcome.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And after the inhale there is a sigh of relief.🧘🏻♀️
LikeLiked by 1 person
There is indeed, Melissa!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Kim, this beautifully captures that couple of seconds – the slight unease before you step inside and fully breathe out – perfect 🙌
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you AJ!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Every time I turn the lock on my door, I feel disoriented, in a place between where I was and where I am. Beautiful writing, Kim.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Nolcha.
Btw I’m having problems getting to your poem. I’ll keep trying. xx
LikeLike
Nothing like the scent of home.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So true Grace.
LikeLike
Love everything about this! Ah to return to my girlhood home….to put the key in the door at 708 S. Martin Avenue, open it and find my dad in his big green chair and my mom setting our table for dinner. How I would LOVE to travel back in time to that. The key in the door….a wonderful image.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Lill. If I could time travel with a key, I’d return to my grandparents’ house.
LikeLike
A most satisfying experience, Kim. Nothing like coming home again.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is indeed. Thank you, Dwight.
LikeLike
You are welcome!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Maria.
LikeLike
That is indeed a wonderful moment!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Rosemary!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovely Kim. It reminded me of the song, A House is Not A Home. Dionne Warwick I think. Beautiful Burt Bacharach lyrics ☺️💕
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Christine. I love that song.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Kim, this feels so gently introspective. I love how you capture the tension between estrangement and belonging in such a simple ritual—I think it’s quietly powerful.
~David
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, David. It’s a quiet moment and hard to capture.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully rendered, Kim ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love how you capture that in-between space and time moment. The beginning has the reader wondering what you may be walking into, and then the relief at being home.
I like, too, that this can be read as literal or metaphorical.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Merril.
LikeLike
You’re welcome, Kim!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Kim, a doorway is always a liminal space for a poet but you have added a new twist (pun intended) with the turning of a key…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Andrew.
LikeLike
The key is the metaphor, and the home is he heart…amazing how quick things would unravel with the safety of both…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. That moment as the key turns is a pivot from outside distractions to the comfort of home.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a moment captured with this poem. Returning home and feeling uncertain at the turn of the key… the re-immersion… You nailed it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much!
LikeLiked by 1 person
There is only one response I can offer: “be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.” You conveyed it so beautifully in 44 words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much, Helen.
LikeLike
So simple and profound! So recognizable as a feeling of longing and belonging.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Kim.
LikeLike
Wonderful poem, Kim!
Yvette M Calleiro :-)http://yvettemcalleiro.blogspot.com
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Yvette!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well now – that speaks my feelings so well, what is it about the sound and feel of that key? (purely rhetorical question)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Paul.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very welcome Kim
LikeLiked by 1 person