On my night stand
rests a small box
the embodiment
sacred of my emotions
Memories of when I danced
with my father
lie in the corners
of this box
As well as
the waves touching
the shapes of our bodies
imprinted in the sand
kiss the roof
of this box
Bunched in the corner
is the tear I shed
for his love
that surrendered to fate
where it will slowly
collect the dust
of this box .
However memories
sometime fade ,
and those imprints
won't last forever
and this tear ,
could dry up .
But his box
will remain forever .
Friday, March 13
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