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Literature Text
A lock of hair
clipped with kisses
from a loved head,
exchanged for my own
bound up with gold
and placed in his pocket—
I kept it with care,
placed it reverently
in a box of brass and glass,
like some saint's relic—
a talisman, a token
bound with blue binding.
Two years it laid
on my cold dresser.
Blue ribbons binding
loosened their hold.
clipped with kisses
from a loved head,
exchanged for my own
bound up with gold
and placed in his pocket—
I kept it with care,
placed it reverently
in a box of brass and glass,
like some saint's relic—
a talisman, a token
bound with blue binding.
Two years it laid
on my cold dresser.
Blue ribbons binding
loosened their hold.
There is a little mauve glass box I own that carries some strange feelings with it.
I emptied it of its contents when I became engaged to my husband, out of superstition, really. I kept it because I don't think love should be thrown away or forgotten, but I threw it out, in the end. It was a reminder of things I did not want to happen again, and I half thought it might bring bad luck. I had bad dreams, sometimes.
Odd little thing I am.
I emptied it of its contents when I became engaged to my husband, out of superstition, really. I kept it because I don't think love should be thrown away or forgotten, but I threw it out, in the end. It was a reminder of things I did not want to happen again, and I half thought it might bring bad luck. I had bad dreams, sometimes.
Odd little thing I am.
© 2006 - 2024 lilymaid7
Comments18
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I keep a four-leaf clover that someone gave me as a wedding gift in a ring box in my nightstand. I never open the box.
~M
~M