The Box
He recalls the butterflies in his stomach as she had taken his gift. With trepidation, he watched as she hurriedly unwrapped what he had offered, then stared with wonder at the small box she had uncovered. It was silver, had two hinge and a simple fastener and was covered in ornate carvings.
His butterflies wore hobnail boots, as she opened the box, its lid and sides covered in scenes of Love and Despair.
She then saw the red silk inside and, nothing more...
“What is this?” She snapped, “You think me a fool?”
“No,” he told her, softly.
“Then, why give me an empty box?” She snarled, her face a mask of annoyance.
Then his head bowed, the fellow told his Love, “It is not empty. It is my box of dreams that I give to you: my Past, Present and all that I am.”
Then in turn, he watched in disappointment, as she looked down at the red silk, inside the empty box and scowled...
“All that you are!” She scoffed, then handed back the young man his box of dreams.
COMMENTS
-