Protect Her Box

Protect Her Box

 

Every girl is given a box, at birth.

It isn’t a terribly embellished box, not at first.

Over time, each girl takes her box

And decorates it, without knowing it.

Some have lace, others jewels

And some have foil or glitter.

Once your box is decorated, individualized

It never changes

Because it represents your true self

And that box protects a girl’s heart.

 

I have a box.

It isn’t very flashy

It doesn’t have jewels or glitter.

It’s a simple box

With a simple lock

But when opened, my box plays

A long forgotten tune

Of days long since blown away.

My box is a music box.

I don’t know the tune anymore

But it was chosen for a reason.

When you open the lid, sand blows out

Silt, the finest sand, the sand that coats your hands

And leaves a fine dust on your clothes and skin.

The sand that I loved as a child.

I’d roll down the sand dunes

And come up, covered head to toe,

With the silt that never completely washed off…

My box is filled with it.

 

I don’t have a ballerina that pops up

To twirl and dance to the tune I cannot recall

Nothing dances, nothing twirls

My box just plays the melody

And gears that no longer move

Crank out the notes in a phantom way.

There’s a mirror

On the inner lid.

But I do not see my reflection, as I am today.

I see a laughing child of five, or six

My hair clipped back

Choppy bangs obscure my vision

As eyes blue as the deepest sapphire

Laugh at something a child finds mirth in.

Front teeth missing, not two, but four�"

And freckles dot a sun-reddened face.

 

Every girl receives a box

To house their heart in.

They’ll give it to you, if you ask

Because girls are always trusting

Even if they don’t seem to be.

Don’t laugh at their decorations

Whatever you do…

Because each flower, each jewel

Is placed there for a reason

And if you laugh at the design

Then the box will never open to your touch

And another lock will top the first

For girl’s are trusting, but girl’s learn fast

And every time that box is offered

And not held dear…

A new lock is formed, on top of the old

And soon the girl forgets what was inside

And why it was precious to begin with.

 

By: Shayla Sayer

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Katrina Mckeown]

lovely memories to be treasured!

[Poetic Beauty]

This is a great thought poured out in each line. My box would be red and black with splashes of purple. Nothing flashy it would be carved wood or maybe silver and decorated with tattoo style drawings and a few poetic words. This is a piece that goes deep inside the mind and the heart and makes the reader think.

[The Analog Kid]

Very endearing.

[Raven Starhawk]

A marvelous poem if I ever read one. Truly something to be cherished.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

precious indeed, that is all.