Storage

In a four acre shoebox
they move in and out of days,
one hardly different from the last:
planting and harvesting,
living and growing,
laughing a bit too loudly
beneath the cardboard lid
to ward off the staleness of the box.

They are his treasures
and he has packed them away,
safe and secure
in four acres of wood and grass and chickens.
A beautiful shoebox,
but a shoebox the same.

Someday, maybe...
when he had finished his contract with the devil,
maybe then the will find the time
to lift the lid and unpack his treasures.
Maybe then, he will find
they are no longer his,
but have grown into their own.