Tucked away within the powdery dust
of layered thoughts recent and crusted,
lies a memory box with secrets locked
by a promise ancient yet trusted.
A whiff of its dark air deeply perfumed
by a cherished childhood complete,
takes me back to days bygone
through objects that seem obsolete.
Its hesitant creak upon my touch
sends forth ripples of innocent laughter
from carefree days lived to the brim
with no worry of what came after.
I caress its contents treasured-
feathers dyed, leaves dried,
letters inked, stones that winked,
coiled cones bequeathed by the tide.
Cradled deep within my memory box
is a handful of special red seeds
and brown ones with silken white tufts
wedged between luck-bringing weeds.
The broken red of bangles, bright
as the untouched bits of a heart forsaken
Faded petals, dry and brittle
once crimson with the love I’d taken.
Inside my little memory box
that mirrors a life of perfection
I seek refuge on rainy days
to see a sunny smile on my reflection.