The ribbon's key.

A key, cold and heavy,
barely hanging on,
to a thread of a ribbon,
worn down over time.
Ragged from worry,
weary from a key,
that fits no lock
that I can find.
But in my heart,
one thought will bind:
Somewhere in the ether,
a slot lies waiting
for a key
it might never see.
Behind the lock
is a mystery,
an empty void
could be all that is there.
As for now
the key just hangs waiting,
for the thread to break,
for a lock to appear.