30 April 2026 For WHAT'S WITH THE BOX Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
A shoebox tucked beneath my bed. For my eyes only, the things unsaid. I keep them close, yet out of sight, Too tender to be seen in board daylight. What might have been lies folded within. Pressed flat to fit the coffin they’re in. Old hopes and regrets long since dead, Lie whispering laments under the bed.
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