Mothers Jewelry Box

May 17, 2011
She held the handle twisted all the way
as she carefully pulled the light-weight door closed,
trying not to make a sound.
Sunlight glittered through the window
and attracted the small girl to a reflective
golden gleam peeking out of a drawer.
The table was old, pockmarks and scratches scarred
the burgundy wood,
emphasizing its battle wounds.
Her little hands clutching the cold steel knob,
she peeked through wispy hair
lips curved up at the corners,
eyes wide and curious,
making sure she was alone.
A gentle tug—she pulled the drawer out
and her mouth formed an o.
The scent of lavender and chamomile
drifted upward from the magical compartment,
light shimmered across silver swirls
and colored bits of this and that.
She carefully picked up a silver chain
and watched it swim between her fingers
like some sort of silver water snake.
Small fragments of green and blue
clung to the chain like drops of dew,
melodiously chiming as they clinked together.

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