The Golden Key

I marched right past the rug fringe, following a cheerful strip of morning sun across the floorboards. Tucked right behind a carved wooden table leg, something caught my eye with a golden wink! It was a small brass key with winged handles, lying flat in the dust. I hurried over, gripped the rounded wing with both hands, and gave a hearty shove. Scritch! It pivoted on the wood with a clear, bell-like ring. Gosh, what a neat little treasure! I nudged it upright against the baseboard so it stands ready for its next spin.