There’s a little black box that sits in the shadows
It harbours hearts in there.
One is swollen past bursting point,
The other, is in for repair.
The little black box bears a gold design
Of filigree hearts and flowers,
And a gold faced clock mounted onto the lid
That silently counts down the hours.
There is a little black box that sits in the shadows
- This box you gave to me.
You told me to care for its precious contents,
Then you slipped me a golden key.
I opened the little black box one day,
And saw the paired hearts resting there
While the swollen one beat without failure or strain,
The other lay limp with a tear.
So I gathered some flowers – placed them next to the hearts,
And locked the lid tight with the key.
I wound the gold clock on top of the lid,
knowing time would set them both free.