Memories
They peer at me from the bureau;
sit on the box topped with two small
Seiko watches and wedding rings.
They skulk behind me: walking the dog
or in the quiet moment when the sun is setting.
Behind the framed pictures, they cry with me.
They grab a taste of the applesauce cakes
as they cool on the old racks. They clamber onto my shoulder
when looking at mountains or changing the car’s oil.
Ambushed, I thank that walnut box
for holding them secure.
Boston Literary Magazine
Sept. 2015
