a box of life

as i sort

through the box of photos

and Christmas

cards,

that's been

in the cellar,

stored under other boxes

of Christmas

lights and ornaments.

the tree stand,

and moth balls.

i sit on the cold

slab

floor of the laundry room,

and sift

through the years

of when

we were young.

when the world was young.

and everyone

we loved

was living, available

by visit, or by

phone.