THE BOX OF DREAMS
A month after Katie died
I found a box behind some hats
On her closet shelf
With seventeen snapshots
From forty-odd years ago.
Suntanned faces, smiling faces,
Clicking glasses, buffet tables,
Bucket hats on deck chairs
Sipping umbrella drinks,
Sipping gin and tonics
At a blackjack table
Splitting pairs, hand over hand.
So full of life was she,
A sparkling gem in a sea of ordinary.
And a shiver went down my spine,
Ice crept across my back
Because
I did not recognize the man.
I cried there on the closet floor
For a long time.
Just when all seems settled
You discover it’s not,
Not at all.
Minutes pass and bring
Imperceptible changes.
Suddenly the sapling we planted
Is a towering maple,
And just as quickly
Is nothing but an empty hole,
Devoid of love and admiration.
Tears turned to fire,
How I hate this man I do not know.
Years amount to nothing but lies
Love wears such a feeble disguise.
What might she have become
Had I let her live
In her box of dreams.
