A box in the basement covered in dust.
The cardboard has seen better days.
Top sunk in from long neglect, one
Name written on the side - a child's scrawl.
We slide the flaps open, and laugh in delight. Inside:
Old friends, all these words. We pull them out like old
Stuffed toys, sliding fingers against soft letters, minding
Tears and smudges, smoothing down tattered edges.
Hold these close a while. Tomorrow, back to being friends.
