inside this small wintergreen tin box
I carry these fond memories.
filled with jewelry no longer shining,
with a compass that lost it’s way,
and the rings that no longer belong.
the lightly circled tan on my fingers have disappeared,
and my neck no longer holds the compass to your heart.
to what was once sketched onto mine,
“Life is an adventure”
-but some adventures never last.
so goodbye for now little mint tin box.
we shall reminisce again,
when the smell of wintergreen has faded.