Cardboard Boxes Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Maybe nothing matters?
Our feelings were like
..........old people sitting
...........around a broken table.
Not talking. Just being.
.........Gesturing with eyebrows
..........of important un-importance.

All of my own private symbols
.......................are different now.
Sort of wasted on legends
..................told but not believed.
Buying time with shaking hands.
Still, I have my health.

And I have
...........the walking I will do.
The roads fresh in
...............beckoning mannerisms.
Step by step. That is how
.................... I shall have to travel.
Do you think of me at all?
I think of you.
I imagine I always will.

Remember when we took
........... black and white photographs?
Taped them carefully into our
.................photo books.
Assuming we would look
..............at them forever and longer.
These books of snapshots
.................are packed in cardboard boxes.
Neither of us shall look at them again.