Unopened
The gift lay where it dropped, unopened still.
Once flaring gaudy wrap, now faded dusk,
not sent with love, but in embittered ill;
it long yet weeps her all-pervading musk.
The gift, and he, tenant a darkened room;
now talisman 'gainst others who may try
to wear him of his overbearing gloom.
A somber place where love has come to die.
And yet, it was not always ever so,
once, Spring's youthful fire seared between the two
and tempting gifts surrendered to and fro
as lovers' earthly touch did both pursue.
The gift it gathers dust as still he mourns;
the unknown content, yet a box of thorns.
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