the lock box
Posted: November 4th, 2018, 2:36 pm
up in the attic
amidst the clutter of the past
(the christmas ornaments
the baby paraphernalia
the broken lamps i haven't yet
gotten around to fixing)
there's a small wooden box
padlocked shut
i chanced upon the key one day
somewhere near my heart
so i opened it
and within
found her
as raindrops pattered overhead
dancing on the roof
with a thousand tiny feet
as gray daylight
through rivulets on the panes
cast misty shadows in the dust
i sat in the attic
alone
examining the treasures
this box
enshrined
it held the moment
we sat on her bed
turning one by one
the cards
telling us what we already knew
that the warmth
within that room
was love
and also the time
our lips first touched
tremulous
uncertain
frightened of the desires
seething within
it contained her giggle
the way she chewed her lip
in concentration
the images
of her large gray eyes
the mole by her left eyebrow
and the one
on the slope of her breast
and oh,
the exquisite curves
of her hips
and cheekbones
it recalled the day
on the old railroad grade
when she took my hand
and refused to budge
until i'd kissed her
and how
on a chilly april evening
she'd pressed against me
for warmth
it held the moment
my hands first felt
the warm skin of her back
the way she so fearlessly
pressed ahead of me
exploring the woods by the pond
the way she squealed with delight
the first time i made her
dippy eggs
the way her fingers
would twirl twirl her hair
the way she'd nibble the russet strands
the way they'd so playfully dance
in a gentle breeze
the way she held
with such infinite care
and tenderness
an injured bird
the way our bodies
swayed in perfect time
and synchrony
to the music
the way she sighed
whenever i rubbed her feet
the way she gasped
whenever i entered her
the way her hair
tickled my nose
upon awakening
and now these tears
running freely down my cheeks
assure me
that every smile she graced me with
every laugh she anointed me in
every endearment she returned
is a gift
i shall cherish
forever
RIP, Holly... 1968-2015
amidst the clutter of the past
(the christmas ornaments
the baby paraphernalia
the broken lamps i haven't yet
gotten around to fixing)
there's a small wooden box
padlocked shut
i chanced upon the key one day
somewhere near my heart
so i opened it
and within
found her
as raindrops pattered overhead
dancing on the roof
with a thousand tiny feet
as gray daylight
through rivulets on the panes
cast misty shadows in the dust
i sat in the attic
alone
examining the treasures
this box
enshrined
it held the moment
we sat on her bed
turning one by one
the cards
telling us what we already knew
that the warmth
within that room
was love
and also the time
our lips first touched
tremulous
uncertain
frightened of the desires
seething within
it contained her giggle
the way she chewed her lip
in concentration
the images
of her large gray eyes
the mole by her left eyebrow
and the one
on the slope of her breast
and oh,
the exquisite curves
of her hips
and cheekbones
it recalled the day
on the old railroad grade
when she took my hand
and refused to budge
until i'd kissed her
and how
on a chilly april evening
she'd pressed against me
for warmth
it held the moment
my hands first felt
the warm skin of her back
the way she so fearlessly
pressed ahead of me
exploring the woods by the pond
the way she squealed with delight
the first time i made her
dippy eggs
the way her fingers
would twirl twirl her hair
the way she'd nibble the russet strands
the way they'd so playfully dance
in a gentle breeze
the way she held
with such infinite care
and tenderness
an injured bird
the way our bodies
swayed in perfect time
and synchrony
to the music
the way she sighed
whenever i rubbed her feet
the way she gasped
whenever i entered her
the way her hair
tickled my nose
upon awakening
and now these tears
running freely down my cheeks
assure me
that every smile she graced me with
every laugh she anointed me in
every endearment she returned
is a gift
i shall cherish
forever
RIP, Holly... 1968-2015