Spring Clean

In an attic an old cardboard box theatrically tied with coloured ribbon a bit battered now I shake it to see what’s inside it. It is silent until I open it and out spills a sweet kiss the softest of caresses a withered tear your typical broken heart and other memories becoming ghost. A dust mote dances in the sunlight. How foolish to keep it after all these years Unable to throw it away then...and now. I climb down stairs a little shaky make a big cup of tea and have a little cry. My husband holds me in his arms kisses me gently...says: 'He must have been some guy! '