Locks of Dreams

The locks whisper iron that time has forgotten,
guardians of an invisible beat between closed doors and dreams.
Every key is a thread of memory between square and alleyway,
where inhabitants, deprived of time, roll up hope.
Invisible memories lodge in the cracks of the locks,
the city breathes slowly, without clocks nor haste.
On sleeping steps, dreams fold themselves in silence,
and a lamppost remains witness to unspoken promises.
When night falls, the doors seem to open without hands,
bringing back voices of those who are no longer in the alleys.
Time remains absent, but the dream does not break
the city stays alive, guarded by the whisper of the locks.