I will not become just another shoebox
A haphazard collection of love letters
Tucked away on the top shelf of the closet in your childhood bedroom
To collect dust next to the others:
Shoes that didn’t fit
Painful ones
They may have broken
Often lost
Ones that you outgrew

I refuse to let memories of us erode—
Hand-me-down stories
Distant dreams
Butterflies, petrified and preserved
A prologue with no story

That didn’t follow your path

Think of me fondly
In smiles, once unfamiliar, now routine
Once loaned, now yours to keep
And an extra dimple to keep in your pocket
On days of ephemeral smiles

Think of me fondly
While I build a bookcase

Think of me fondly
Until you have your library