Unspoken Words
by Kathleen M. Krueger
Broken, red-cased travel alarm
received for my twelfth Christmas;
black clutch purse with broken zipper
my dad gave me for my birthday;
It’s strange the meaning you
attach to a gift; some brass gears,
red vinyl and a white clock face.
A symbol of passage,
of childhood completed.
Golden monogram on
that old clutch purse sang
the song of a father’s love,
words of the heart
held in pieces of plastic.
These, along with other mementos,
were placed in the first of many knapsacks,
cradles of treasured memories,
carried down the road.
Kathleen M. Krueger©