Curiosity's Toll
There was a warm bejeweled door with three locks and a keyhole in the center.
The first lock showed me numbers on a dial that I spun until they zeroed. I gave up my wealth.
The second latch was tied with a lock of lush hair that I cut with silver scissors. I gave up my health.
The third required a keycard, a photo of my loved ones that sliced in two as I slid it. I gave up my happiness.
The keyhole needed my passage to Paradise.
Behind the door I heard singing, laughing, welcome, welcome.