They placed them there
in two pretty boxes
high on a shelf
one for him
and one for her
their bones still warm
they set them there.
And when the mood arose
they took them down
and MADE them
to clown around
reminding them again
of their place
on the ground.
Once fearful
they slapped down some coin
and purchased two locks and
two tiny keys
and drilled two patterns with such
great care
pronounced once more to the
poor trapped pair
that they wouldn’t grow much
way up there
Or get too wild
with so little air
permanently sealed
in their chronic despair.
Then continued to feed them
little white lies
an earful each day
lest they surmise
that the dark chocolate trifle
rich with their scorn
had been their folly
kept them forlorn
and so they mocked them
year after year
convinced and comfortably
locked, in their fear.
AND when the season
came…as they do
they did not see it…
blinded by the light
of their precious trapped two
who wisely knew
the infamous route
having plotted and planned
and grown their way out
one of them skinny
the other one, stout.
Two boxes remain
hallowed and high
on a dusty shelf
touching the sky
with two small
locks and two small keys
tarnished and swinging,
from one of their trees.
© 9-24-13
Cornelia DeDona