A Collection Of Air

in the box of memories

under my bed

the doll lay quiet

a small sigh, so silent

escaped her ruby lips

confined in the box of memories

she was quite alone

but happy

sometimes she cries

sometimes she smiles

and whispers

the word she was forbidden to

utter, the word to bring

the world crashing down about

our heads

whispers, sometimes

sometimes she shouts it out

but who will hear her?

for she is trapped in the box of memories

full of my thoughts and wishes


The End

3 comments about this poem Feed