Octogenarian figure kneeling nostalgic solitude,
hesitant fingers unwrapping precious bundles,
perfumed aromas opening delicate echoes,
skeletal arms caressing battenburg lace,
pressed violets stirring autumn memories,
butterfly ribbons hugging blushed whispers,
sepia photograph peering silent dignity;
buried emotions
surfacing
celadon
eyes.

Barbara Moyer

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-trunk/