
"The Box Of Words"
She follows the dimly lit path this morning, sits quietly on the bench,
and watches the day's dawning, and feels her spirit quenched.
The new sun's rays light up the tops of the trees.
and fall gently upon the box resting there on her knees.
The box is old and worn, the wood polished through with tears,
and from her fingerprints, from opening all these years.
Inside this box are memories, and words that she has kept,
Songs of life and beauty, and in this box they've slept;
Today she opens the lid gently, to slip her hand in and find,
The words of Browning and Dickenson, and all the bards sublime.
Her fingers rifle through the pages, searching for just the verse and thought,
and touches something old and brittle, and she looks to see what she's caught.
There on a piece of paper, old and folded in half,
are words that were almost forgotten, words that brought forth a laugh!
She closes the lid, and looks around her, and hears the song of the birds,
In the distance her love is waiting, so she gathers up her box of words.
And turns and walks toward the sunlight, this shining bright new day,
Renewed in heart and spirit, she now knows what to say.
for Rae, by Peg 7/15/08