"Have a place just for me."

Even now, I'll admit he was special.
But he never did get his own box.

Thus began the rainy season.

Our secret journal, the emotions, and his taste.
It is all stashed
In in the same spot as the others
Mingled together, in a shoe box.

If boys were leaves
he would be one among many
scattered on damp ground in the humid fall
of my memories.

God I love Autumn.

No, he never did deserve his own box.

Spring is approaching.