The Goodbye Box

Give memories a proper seat ....or a glass box.

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In my Primary Five class was a boy

named Boon.

Who stored goodbyes

In a box.

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He brought it to school --

Glass --

And filled it with coloured notes

When someone left.

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We found it strange.

I laughed with others

At him

Louder than needed.

But I once asked --"Why glass?"

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"Because cardboard tears.

Forgets.

Glass recalls. Even when

it cracks."

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When our teacher died

He filled the box

So full it made

His desk

Sink.

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When Jia Le transferred schools,

He wrote "See you soon"

And sealed it -- it meant something

to him.

He wanted to recall people

And their steps.

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Their voices.

Their hugs.

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But one day,

He left too.

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No box.

No note

Just his empty seat

And blank coloured paper.

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Time went on.

My father passed.

I stood by his bed

With a swallowed goodbye.

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Then I thought of Boon

And how he gave Sorrow

A proper seat

The way we do

For people.

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He wasn't odd.

He just knew what it meant

To remember.

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Original poem by Michelle Liew. AI tags are coincidental.