The Box On The Shelf

When I am old
I will rouse my old self
I will gather a chair
I will go to the shelf
There, on that plane
High up on the wall
I will find my fine box
Wearing dust for its shawl
Down then we’ll sit
I and my box
Dented, dinged, scratched
From bumps and from knocks
And I’ll sit and I’ll think
While the box sits with me
Content for the day
Its treasures win free
Its weight bringing comfort
I’ll rise and I’ll lift
The box to its shelf …
One day, it will shift.
And then it will open
When time’s right and due
And all the box holds
We will share


2 thoughts on “The Box On The Shelf

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