by Nick Gisburne
The box was labelled ‘All my hopes and dreams’
It hid among the clutter of the shelf
A cardboard treasure, bursting at the seams
She filled it with the pieces of her self
The clippings cut from glossy magazines
Those perfect people, living perfect lives
The distant places, rich, exotic scenes
And all the perfect husbands, perfect wives
She saved them and she vowed to make it so
For years she planned for nothing else but this
And when the treasure had no room to grow
She stored it safely, with a final kiss
They found a second box the day she died
‘My dreams fulfilled’, but nothing was inside
