A widow’s shoe box;
filled with water-logged memories and
sepia smiles, once-loved smiles,
treading carefully into life
as youth knows not how. Cardboard
cut-outs of hands previously
traced with the lips of a lover,
like a pen to paper.
An animation once so vivacious, so fervid and
bright, now compressed and
compounded to a collection of
bleached wood. Life found amongst
still dreamt of, once-loved smiles;
still sought after, dead smiles.
