The wooden chest

The wooden chest adorned with pearls immaculate
contains diamonds of thoughts and whispers
hiding from the prying eyes that create
deep carved scratches on its surface

Instead of a key it's locked by a spell
of melodies and tunes undeciphered
by ears coated with a shell
Soaked with noises unfiltered

The wooden chest holds layers of a life
protecting it like a hen protects its eggs
Fragile as it is, it holds onto the strife
Never falters, never for mercy begs

The wood may rot in a room that's stale
But the content forever glows within an exterior that's frail