I
can’t see
what’s
in your
cardboard box
It seems heavier
Usually I would lend
a hand
Sometimes I would drop mine
Clatter
sprawled out on whichever rug
lined our childhood bedrooms
Now I don’t know when I last saw
your trinkets on that rug
Chess pieces
I can’t see what’s in your
cardboard box
Right now
But I know
Like a sturdy oak tree
Standing tall
I can return to you.