time capsule
thirty years to the day
the old man buried a box
wrapped in plastic
on the border of his property
he recalled the idea
of hiding treasures
complemented his playfulness
agreed with his sensibilities
even though he knew
exactly where to go
he sat at the table
and unfolded the map
he had crafted at age fifty
life had been a blur until then
he remembered
and for the first time he swore
he had changed somehow
when he traced his finger
to the spot past the juniper trees
the items he would soon recover
flashed before him
as distant memories
slowly coming into focus
march, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved






this is a wonderful poem. thank you.
thank you so much and thank you for visiting my poetry