The Box/My Plea

[virginangelic]

The Box/ My Plea

I’ve sat here on this high shelf,

Collecting dust for the last forty two years,

The photos within fading to oblivion

The ink filled pages fragile and yellow.

The brooch dulled; a far cry.

 

I yearn for someone to open me,

To touch me,

To caress me,

To use me once again.

 

Let me be a part of your life,

Allow me to store bits of your day:

Pieces of your nights.

Let me preserve your story.

 

Your secrets are safe with me.

Just please, keep me.

I don’t mind if I’ll be used as an ornament.

Just please…

Don’t just throw me away

I have some worth;

Wisdom from a past life if you’d listen.

 

Find me.

Pick me.

Keep me.

Please.