Unfair is everything I am to you;

A friend,
A lover,
A closed door.

Yet with your heart clenched in your fist,
You hammer at my chest,
With hopes to match the rhythm.

Three Million keys you offer still,
To doors untouched by any,
And only ask that I walk through,
And feel the pulsing of your walls.

But I stand still,
An ancient oak,
Who’s felt the world but taken zero steps.