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Posts Tagged ‘box’

HER ESSENCE

After she was gone
I found scraps of paper
everywhere.
Each piece torn
from whatever was at hand
when thoughts possessed her mind,
or touched her heart.
Little reminders
jotted down when senses
stirred her to capture
a piece of beauty
or a fragment of emotion.
Words, phrases, ideas
upon which she would
later elaborate.
Drawing from those small
scraps, pages of stirring
discourse that could make
one lose himself
in laughter, or touch
one’s heart to tears.
Those bits of written
emotion reflect how she
found beauty in everything,
and she comes alive
in the words
she jotted down
Musing about their value,
I could not destroy them.

In my closet upon a shelf,
there is a candy box
that holds her essence.
It is full of life and love
recorded on scraps of paper,
reminding me of her.
She was a poem.

2/5/93 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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HANDMADE VALENTINE

 

Just a little piece of art work

Consisting of one page,

Made with love by little hands

And faded now from age.

It’s a heart in sketchy contour

Trimmed with bits of lace,

And the words, “I Luv Yu, Mommie.”

Are crayoned on its face.

It hung upon the wall for years

Where it was viewed each day,

But now it’s in a small box

That I have tucked away.

A box that holds the treasures

Made throughout the years —

A daughter’s tokens to her Mom,

That prompt nostalgic tears.

And now there hangs upon the wall

A heart with crimson shine,

That says, “I love you Gram and Gramps” —

Her daughter’s valentine.

 

2/10/93            Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

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The box that looks so old

A BOX FROM YESTERDAY

 

Inside this box that looks so old . . .

       A chain of gold,

       My wedding dress,

       A small brown tress,

Favored photos, yellowed by time,

       A penciled rhyme,

       A dried bouquet,

       A rose sachet,

Bride and groom from atop my cake,

       A bell to shake,

       Rice thrown at me,

       And memory.

 

1/7/89          Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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    JENNY’S SHOE BOX

 

She carried the box everywhere,

tied shut with soiled string.

The items held within its frame,

to her, meant everything.

It was full of priceless treasures

she’d found on nature quests:

such as small colorful pebbles,

and eggs from fallen nests,

some catkins from a willow branch,

fall leaves she’d pressed with care,

some tiny iridescent shells

and glossy corn-silk hair,

a hummingbird’s exquisite nest

she’d found at season’s end,

the spiraled tendril from a vine

with ornamental bend,

a stone shaped like a tiny bear,

some silky milkweed down,

a piece of pungent dark green moss,

and a small acorn crown,

fragile monarch butterfly wings,

and feathers of bright hue,

some tiny aromatic seeds,

and flower petals, too.

 

When asked about the things within,

the child was quick to say,

“The world is in this little box,

I see it everyday.

The contents that I treasure here,

are the greatest to be found.

They’re pieces of the universe

of touch and sight and sound.”

 

“I see the leaves of summertime

and fall’s golden brown.

I even see leaves lose their grip

and twirl as they float down.

I see milkweed pods opening,

and many birds in flight.

I see a nest of pale blue eggs,

and a horned owl at night.

Inside I hear a running stream

and breezes kissing trees.

I see a rainbow’s lovely arch,

and yellow bumblebees.

I see gently swaying corn-stalks

and flowers everywhere.

I see butterflies in sunlight.

flitting here and there.”

 

“The sky is mirrored in this box.

The earth is present, too.

If viewed with seeing heart and soul,

the world’s revealed to you.

I look inside this box each day

and touching each small thing,

I’m humbled at the beauty

that memory can bring.

I chose these things with utmost care,

researching day and night,

and memorized the way they looked —

before I lost my sight.

         

4/10/91        Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

3’rd … Arkansas NPD 1997

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