A Beam of Light

A Beam of Light

Pushed away, discarded and forgotten,
Packed loosely in some cardboard box
Peeks a troubled face amid aged wood blocks,
Personality filled, though stuffed with cotton.
A wise and kindly face, but mournful too,
It displays pain from a friend gone, untrue.

A beam of light glares through the hov'ring dust.
Buried memories walk into the room
With a familiar figure. Through the gloom
They float: the injustices of life discussed,
Long embraces, kisses, tears were all exchanged;
Together, at bedtime, prayers they arranged

He feels something changed: her demeanor.
Care and worry waxed, innocence decreased;
No longer a child, long ago she released
Her naïve youthful ways. Serener,
He thought to himself, is a childish soul,
On which heartache and trouble have taken no toll.

He spots something tightly clasped in her hand,
She lifts the thing, and points it at her head.
Ancient was he; slept by many a child's bed,
Only once before had he befriended this brand
Of soul, that gave up all hope in life.
That he must witness it again was strife.

And then she caught his sad unblinking gaze,
She cocked her head, then lowered her hand.
He saw her trying to unfile and command
Old thoughts, repressed by age. Her mind strays,
From her current task, and recognition spreads
As, quickly, toward the cardboard box she treads.

As of old, he's hugged tight against her chest
And splashed in a shower of fresh warm tears.
He's glad to be held once more, shrouding fears,
If temporarily. There he stays pressed
A tiny beam of mem'ry and hope.
Maybe, once more, in this dark world she'll grope.