• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 08
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Memory Chest

There’s a favourite toy,
a gift at age two.
There's ‘Lucy’ doll
she’s now lost a shoe.
There is the food,
the sweet and the sour.
There is the clock
that chimed on the hour.
There are my books
full of the poems I wrote.
There are the pearls,
that once kissed my throat.
There is the gin
we drank until dawn.
There are the feathers
we found on the lawn.
There are the tulips
black as the night.
There are the orbs,
heavenly halos of light.
There is the chest
upon which sits the phone,
now disconnected,
there’s nobody home.