1898

1898

Maya Wilson

"It's on the third shelf," he said,

So I looked and found nothing but

An old copy of a Webster dictionary.

The year was 1908.

I couldn't recall anything special happening then

But then again, what if I was missing something?

"It's on the third shelf," he said,

And his eyes were so sure of it.

They doubted nothing and something

In them said: believe me.

I searched again but only found a postcard.

1898. Brooklyn. She says she loves you.

So there was a woman but who was she

And why did he care so much?

"It's on the third shelf," he said.

Now there was a tiny little box

Engraved: Angel.

I almost didn't dare open it but his

Eyes were so sure and his words so pure

That I snapped off the lid and

Let the most precious stone I've ever seen

Fall to the ground with a thud.

Her name was Denise.

Grandaddy said he'd marry her one day

But the next, she ran away and left

Nothing but the scent of her hair.

Peaches and sugar.

"It's on the third shelf," he said,

And again, it was good ol' Webster,

This time with a bookmark.

The word was love.

"Hold to it, my boy; you'll never know it 'til it leaves ya," he said.

Then Grandaddy stood up and went.