They came just after midnight
with a note from the powers that be
to dig up wooden box
and retrieve the gold-plated leaf.
Each one too stubborn to listen
to pleas not to disturb the grave
where the box was buried
along with memories.
The soil was just drying
when their boots heartlessly stepped and stomped
leaving unwanted footprints.
Dawn saw the box pried open
and the morning wept
as the air of sadness stirred into anger
witnessing a piece of memory now struggling
to stay buried in the past.
For #inpoems 422 ‘every time I healed you cut me’
© annie scribes 2017
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