THE BOX OF DREAMS
A month after Katie died
I found a box behind some hats
On her closet shelf
With a handful of snapshots
From forty-odd years ago.
Two suntanned faces, two smiling faces,
Clicking glasses side by side,
Matching bucket hats on deck chairs,
Sipping umbrella drinks,
Then sipping gin and tonics
Late in the night
At a blackjack table
Splitting a pair, hand over hand,
His fingers playing with
Her wedding ring.
So full of life was she,
A sparkling gem in a sea of ordinary.
And my heart turned to coal,
Blackening my soul,
Because
I did not recognize the man.
I cried there on the closet floor
For a long time.
Just when all seems settled
You discover it’s not.
Not at all.
Minutes pass and bring
Imperceptible changes.
Suddenly the sapling we planted
In our new backyard
Is a towering maple,
And just as quickly
A withering stump
Hiding dead and dying roots.
How full of joy, that stranger’s face,
In that far away forgotten place.
Years amount to a set piece of lies,
Her love for me, a suffocating disguise.
What might she have become
Had I let her live
In her box of dreams?