There’s a box from when she was four stood out in the cold at the school door 

The first day which should of been excitement was replaced by fear, digging her hands deeper into the pockets of that new blue coat before a bird shit down the front and ruined that moment now just an anecdote.

 

There’s a box from when she was twelve 

When her grandad died, as she came down stairs from the sound of his cry 

His gentlemanly figure slumped to the side  a moan of pain, a last help before it was his time

 

A box for the moment the class bully found her fame, kicked her legs on the way home, name calling just the bullies game 

The tears, fears, walking home fast or stay home secure, protected by her mother love the tonic of all cures.

 

A box of her father, the distance, the rows, the smacks and the fear 

The look on her mums bruised cheek, broken mirrors and vacuumed cleaners, making excuses, even now being no clearer 

 

A box from the boss, a terrible appraisal, a ruined friendship, a lost love, broken heart 

Tears that she shed, always silent in the dark 

Never too many boxes, always space for more, a place to store happenings, events things you want to ignore. 

RR