The Treasure Chest

And now, in my heart of hearts,
I find not one, but two of its wings…
Pitter-patter is the sound my heart makes
When it opens its mouth to sing.

Present for joy, for people, for chatter…
And now, ever present,
For an angel worth my laughter.

If dreams were ever to take the form
Of something one could hold,
Mine might mirror a statue
With a face like hers of gold.

And if all of life’s treasures
Were to be placed in a deep chest,
In the cocoon of my sweet memories,
A piece of her will rest.

I may awake tomorrow
And find the wing of hope no more,
But in this small detail,
I’ll forever be assured:

That I am blessed
To have had it perch on my windowsill,
And am grateful
For the gift it left at my front door—