Bon Bons

by Judith A. Lawrence

It's become a ritual every few years

to sort through the contents of

this heart-shaped ribboned box

filled with notes of passion

yellowed through the years.


The various ragged edge scraps of paper

fall loosely to the bed in disarray.

I carefully unfold the ink blurred corners,

struggle with aging eyes

to re-read the words of lovers and poets
caught up in the heat of the moment.


Disjointed ramblings written

in the wee hours of the evening,

napkin poems, rhyming poems,

a four page letter filled with
second thought corrections.

Not what he meant to say?


With renewed interest I linger

over each fragment,

read between the lines,

vividly recall the beginning,

middle, and end of romances.

I cry, laugh out loud,

cringe, regret, savor,

re-live again and again,

the song and dance of love.