Boxes of Love

She sits there
making boxes of love.
Measuring the width
of wooden promises.
Checking the length
of varnished vows.

Perseus flies by
on his winged steed.
And Daedalus too,
on waxen wings.

Troubling her perspective,
Lifting her gaze,
As she sits there
making boxes of love.

Someone beside hugs a tree.
Another poetises it.
Yet another replicates it on their easel,
There's one who philosophically untrees the tree.
Then again, another wonders what to do with the tree anyway,
While she sits there making boxes of love.

Two semi circles side by side,
and a right angle joining them below.
A perfectly symmetrical heart shape she devises
To put on the boxes as they grow.

Beautiful miniature boxes,
each hatching in it one lovely dream.

The goblins pass by with pots of gold.
Fairies reveling in the firefly dusk,
And she sits there,
making boxes of love.

She asks Sisyphus,
"What is the time?"
But he has no time to answer back.
She just smiles, shaking her head.

And everyday,
She makes boxes of love.