There's a box beneath my bed;
it's contents always fill my head.
I am nearly ever aware of the scent that softly lingers there.
Pressed flowers are laid away mutely telling the tale of yesterday. There is a knight, carved with care, lying at the bottom there. Near the knight is a poem, treasured and worn from reading. Each time I survey these things, my heart begins swiftly beating.
At the top, neatly stacked, are letters from far away. Letters full of new things and plans for a new day. Letters, pictures, and poems that scream what can't be said..all in a box beneath my bed.
