A slice of time
unencumbered by hope or expectation
A dash of color
A memory untold.
And yet,
I hold you in my hand
Like precious jewel
not to be lost
Amongst the other affairs
Until tomorrow
or beyond
left in the attic of my mind
the trunk that holds the others
within cobwebs and silver fish
in silent slumber between the eaves.
And wake I might
Or not.
Keeping you close to my heart alone.
(c) 2017Iris B. Struller