2 March 2013
The box it sits
on my desk top
I walk to open it
Then i stop
I touch its engravings
Chiseled in stone
Is my name
My very own
I trace my fingers
Down the side
I wonder if this box is just filled with lies
Haven't opened it in years
Not since then
My mind remembers the dreadful curls
Of hair that were so near to me
But slayed my dad
Where my eyes could see
This time though
I lift the cover
It creaks and bleats as if saying no
I pull out one piece of my memory box
A very small picture of us at the locks
My dad was there too
In the background i noted that curled sly fox
I cried as tears fell from my eyes
And as the next scene played out in my mind
I put that piece back in and pulled out some tickets from Annie
It had been the best
Dad had been there too
All three tickets held in my hand
Row 1 right up next to the pit that held the band
I next lifted a pin from my girl scouts
Id been elected scout of the month
For just once
This didn't bring back a sad memory of dad
He had been there clapping with his hands
His mouth open cheering
Other parents leering
But now as i pulled out more and more memories
All the sad feeling fleas
They upped and left
Now i could accept
What had happened
move on with my life
Even through all the sadness and strife
And i think it wont be long until i open this box once again:)
Memory Box • Opuss № I