She wears it around her neck on a chain. Safe in the only home it's known, smug between her *******.
A key to her first diary, where she wrote about her hopes and her dreams. About her love for the boy down the street and about how she lost her virginity and cried for a week.        
A key to her trousseau, holding warmth from the blankets and linens,  practicality from the dishware,  love from  the Shakespeare poems and long awaited hope from the yellowing lace.  
A key to her first home, with the white picket fence and the swing set in the back. Where her children would grow up, where laughter would ring and loneliness would echo in the halls                
A key to her favorite jewelry box, with the diamond earrings and macaroni necklace.  The discarded ring that she had to ask for and that never quite fit  
He knows the key is there, he's seen it for 3 decades.  He knows the devastation that is in store if he uses it.
Its the key to open her heart.

He sits, he listens, he watches
As the children play. 1,2 buckle my shoe.
They are completely unaware of the man in the white suit.
He whispers, tell me something funny
Laughter explodes and is caught by the breeze of a warm summer day
3, 4 shut the door, as he whispers, tell me something sweet
A young boy steal his first kiss
5, 6 pick up sticks, as he whispers, tell me anything.                                        
Children's voices raise as they play, completely unaware of the man in the white suit as he sits and listens and               watches.

What if I never left Montreal?
Would this be in French
What if I married the first man who asked?                            
Would I have children or grandchildren
What if I went to university when I originally planned?
Would I have a different career
What if I had said no?                      
Would I have remained pure              
What if I had been born first?
Would I be loved more
What if I had been born a man?
Would I be more successful
What if I'd never been born?