The Box

As I look through this old, tattered shoe box,

it would seem a box of memories, a box of love,

but really it is a graveyard of friends taken

for granted and remnants of a life once filled

with light. The dust surrounding love letters, ticket

stubs, old poems, and dried rosebuds is the

remains of a young girl with fight still left in her, and

the army of soldiers she long left for dead. This box

is a reminder that she is gone and

never coming back.