Grandmother’s Memory Box 

  
She lifts the lid and places it on the bed
fingering yellowed pieces of torn paper,
and bits of string as soft as silk, 
a reflective smile upon her face.

Carefully she picks up a dried leaf
twirling it between thumb and fingers,
feeling a soft breeze upon her face,
then sets it gingerly aside.

She touches treasures piece by piece.
A withered flower, brittle with age, 
half a ticket stub, and strip of red ribbon,
an old Valentine with well worn edges.

Each object fragile with age
laden with widowed memories,
each reaching through time’s haze
to reminisce on a love deep within.

With a smile, she replaces each one
as tenderly as laying a babe to rest,
then she utters a soft sigh, 
and remembers that the sun has set.

 			
                        feb 2003
	


Included in
 

 

Selected for "October/04 " e-mail version AND print version of
Poetry Sharings Journal



Awarded by The Creative Writer's Lounge




Awarded by The Creative Writer's Lounge