There are these boxes
Scattered throughout my room
On the bureau
Beside the clock
Underneath the books
Bows rest atop some
Pink
and blue
and red
Patterns
Stretch out from the paper
To the sky
These little boxes
About 2" by 2"
Remind me of promises kept
Of gifts and forgotten poetry
They are everywhere
Never letting me forget
All the packaged love
Whether ghost or expired milk
Presents in the present
And in the past
Regards and wishes
Given and received
An expectation of a memory
Now and forever
Don't tell me
To toss them away
They are the remnants
Of the ones I loved
To be human
Everyone must have these boxes
Or become victim
To the stars
Flaming balls of light
Pretty
But far away
Too far to chase
You would run for eternity
Better to accept
These gifts of gifts
Skeletons
But not quite dead
And let the boxes
Fall into odd nooks
Let them open
And pour their inner paper out
You'll glimpse them
After a long day
And wonder
Why they are still there
But understand that
They always will be