The Box

by Carol Cone

The cardboard box holds your baby clothes,

Pajamas with feet,

Overalls, wooly bonnets, embroidered blankets

The fleecy snowsuit with bunny ears.

I unfold each piece slowly.

I weep.

I want to smooth your fuzzy hair

I want to touch your baby cheeks

I want to trace your profile nose to chin

I want you snug and warm on my lap

I want to tuck your head on my shoulder

And hug you silently until you fall asleep,

And then I can kiss you, softly, lightly.

The only time I can steal a kiss

Is when you sleep.

Now we meet with an awkward hug

The soft baby cheeks under a beard,

The long shiny hair threaded with grey

Pulled back in a careless ponytail,

The brown eyes are wary, watching;

For you the world is an alien place.

I ache to hold you, hug you, give you another secret kiss,

To invade the secret space around you

That holds the world away.

Who do you love? Who do you trust?

Who holds you safely now?