Trinket Box
By Kate Wilkinson
She holds a box in her weathered hands
Tiny treasures; trinkets of time
Shells from sands they once walked together
As waves chased away the stress of the world
And they soared with gulls,
Shrieking with delight and abandonment
Buttons from his shirt, worn and slightly cracked
Reminders of leathery calloused skin-
The hands she once held dear
A tarnished locket holds a face creased from smiling;
A hint of laughter in that deep and eternal gaze
A lucky watch
Now seems a traitor, a fiend, a thief
The second hand ticks mockingly, a heartbeat frozen in time
She holds her arms outstretched,
Offering me the box of sacred memories
All that remains of him
Trinkets of a life fulfilled; she is ready to say
Goodbye.