The Box

I was never allowed to look in it.
It was always locked;
Though she would fiddle with its catches
And rusty leather suitcase hinges.

One day when she was out,
Shopping for a new handbag in the Easter sales,
I crept into the wardrobe where she
Hid it beneath shoeboxes.

Through the open window, I could
Hear the children in the school playground
Screeching and laughing. My heart thumped.

I felt the weight and shook it
Hungry for clues.
I began to prize the lock with a coathanger
Then the lock clicked open. I’d nailed it!

Lifting the lid I peered in.
It is human nature.
It is the way of hearts.
Even if it hurts.