The Box
There is a shabby box upon your shelf
Covered with dust it lies in solitude
Once, it brought you pleasure and excitement
Gratification that was undeserved.
Often you would hold it and cosset it
Your fingers tracing patterns in the grain
Creating patterns of your own liking
Seeking delectation, once again.
Gently you would lift the lid and wonder
At the beauty of the treasure held within
And yet its innate potency disarmed you
Desire dissipated, ardour waned.
How foolish you were to ignore first passions
Deep stirrings of a force beyond yourself
I am the precious treasure you discarded
I am the forgotten jewel upon your shelf.
Encased within my wooden tomb I linger
A lonely vigil is my destiny
My shadow waits in silence for your calling
Amidst the mists of nebulosity.
poem by Jackie Metcalfe
Added by Poetry Lover
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