the perfectly dark box

the perfectly dark box
 

 dare not reveal
that what fits inside
the perfectly dark box ..,
repined the dweller
by a dark stream
 

keep your secrets hidden
in the perfectly dark box
where a profuse ,
imposing silence ,
withers on the vine
like the last winter rose

 vestige of what once was light ,
another season
soon forgotten ,
in the perfectly dark box

 dolorous abandoned petals ,
left for dead ,
estranged remnants
entangled tendrils
of the womb of time
 

one day I swear .., I’ll spread my wings - -
knowing I no longer fit
   into this box I’m living in ...
 

  harlon rivers © January , 2015