Patrick Neal

Pandora's Mementoes

I know you told me not to ever try
I know you told me it would ruin things
But from beyond it came the sweetest rings
Like bells beneath a blue and stormy sky

Long time itís lain in dusty attic eaves
Forgotten as the years go slipping by
Waiting for a corner of an eye
To catch before the last of wonder leaves

Its boards are hewn of old and varnished pine
Cut by men whose sons are long since dead
Laid in fragrant groves to rest their heads
And dream of angled boards and perfect lines

The key is polished brass, with not a hand
Ever laid upon its age-dulled skin
None ever wanted it to let them in
They knew what mortal man could not withstand

But I was not as wise as those whoíve fled
My hand was led astray by metal gleam
The key was turned, and underneath the seam
Cracked open as I lifted up the lid

But oh!, what a thing to disinter
What a thing to loose upon this land
And though the years may trickle down as sand
Iíll always know how right you truly were.


Copyright © 2002-2011 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose © 2002-2011 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission.