and post notes and photos about your poem like Debbie Guzzi.
For years, perhaps a decade,
the silver box had lain within a wooden
shell, a box within a box,
a larger casket quieting
memories too painful to revisit;
yet, too precious to throw away.
The bedroom held much more
within four walls, another sheltering box,
another type of tomb.
The box had sat unopened for so very long,
each memory waiting deep within a gloom.
Bedded in a bower of crocheted lace,
it lay, embraced beside a picture frame
of he and she.
A lifted lid, an open box, a silver casket
removed, it’s open now, jewels spill forth,
his gifts to her.
Jade for luck, gold for her ears,
bits of cinnabar blood-red, fans of scented
sandalwood and combs of tortoise
for her hair, emerge.
A decade now locked out of sight,
a box within a box, boxed in—
is what she was—
Time to let go, she thinks,
but, then again, she smiles;
closing the lid of silver bright,
she’ll keep this yet awhile.
Published by Autumn Sound 2013
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015