Tin Boxes


in her youth
my mother made turquoise rings
delicate bands thirsty clinking bottles
but life outgrows initial measurements
swollen fingers pregnancy tin box
in my childhood
she bought herself a ruby ring
her birthstone
adorned me with a promise of her longevity
but life outgrew initial measurements
and I've inherited
broken bottles ashes and a tin box

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem