Reclamation

I found an old jewellery box. Ornate in design,

splintered in parts, with dust etched

into the very soul of it.

The trinkets inside speak to old fashions and whims.

The fancies of a much younger iteration. Wishful, hopeful, charming.

I want to reclaim, repair, reinvent it, in all the eccentricities and tales of a fateful future. This arcane delight should always house treasures.

Free the baubles of disdain and dispair. Awash

them in a sun speckled mantle. It is mine

again, it is me again. I am worthy, and it is time.