Wrapped in satin scarves, tied with a silken bow.

Another year has passed, it seems like only yesterday that you were here

My, how fast the years have flown...for here you are again, my dear loyal friend

The Gift of a Box which arrives on time, like clockwork

Every single year

How is it that you.....A simple wrapped mystery

Bedecked with such loving thought and care

A Box. Could lead me down such a wanton path

Often you appear upon my doorstep...

Softly kissing, gently teasing the mat by my front door

I possess no willpower, no strength to say NO! Please...

No more secret, clandestine boxes to ornament my porch -

Yet, today, you, sensing my wavering intentions

You arrive by: DRONE, drone! I cannot believe your gall

What audacity, what cheek, the nerve of you

How must I resist the pull, the mystery, the charm

Of the mind that did engineer such an arrangement

I hear the sweet buzzing of the lovely golden metal bird

Saw you slowly approach above yonder trees

Where could it be heading, please not here. I think to myself

Then, to my surprise, the little bird came right up

Almost tapping at my front door, suspended in flight

A medium sized brown box hangs gingerly

From its tiny gleamingly powerful grasp

Slowly it gets closer, and closer to the ground

Like a large menacing metal bee, it swoops

Then by my door it halts, shrieks, deposits it's load

And soars away high into the azure, lovely cyan skies

Swiftly I rise from my cushioned windowed comfort

Flying post haste, and with shameless anticipation.

Snap, went the slightly rusted latch on our old door

Flung opened wide with more alacrity than I knew I had

I grab the welcomed tenuous package - awed and happy

Did he remember our anniversary?

Did the five children pool their resources

And unselfishly buy momma a birthday gift

I honestly do not remember which is which

Is it birthday or anniversary? Ah well.

Into the house we both proceed, me feeling shy and coy

Opening the box with childish glee, with trembling hands

I find to my alarm, my favorite perfume

A tender worded note inside, "I remembered", it read

Tresor Je`taime, Lancome 1990, "our spot 7pm"

Wrapped in satin scarves, tied with a silken bow

It is from my beau from long ago

The one that got away, the one I sent away

You know, the one you never forget

The one who would have led you astray

The devil may care handsome rascal

Who discovers in his latter years, too late

That his bad choices made all those years ago

Were all for his selfish desires and pleasures.

Still, a silly part of me wants to find out

If five children and a sweet kind soul years later

Had been the right decision of my weary heart.

Though they are my whole entire world

The devil imp upon my shoulder had to know.

With a wayward sigh, I write a note,

left it on the kitchen table

"Off shopping with some friends, back soon

Dinner on warm, check the oven, careful please".

I dressed with apprehension, and much care, been so long

The place had changed. More modern, more Social

I felt so out of place, so behind the times

Where indeed, had the years gone. Parenting, adult things

They consume your days, weary are the nights.

The restaurant is young, we are past middle age

You can't, they say, go back home again...

There he was, sitting at our table, it was the spot

Different, but same, some things never change

He arose, still quite the gentleman of old

Lilacs and peonies in a bouquet. He remembered...

I have five children. I know he said. I love them so

A silent hug, "Let me look at You. Wow!

You have not changed, still as beautiful as ever".

He still lied so well. I laughed, giddy as a teenager.

"You got old, more handsome, if I may say so.

Greying at the temples suits you".

We both laughed so very heartily. It was good to laugh.

We talked. He never forgot me. Neither I you. I said

We ate. Drank wine, just a glass, can't be too wild.

~~~~~

Someone had to drive back home.

We danced a while, watched the stars a while.

"Let's go home", he said. "Ok", I said

Don't worry, he is my own other loving half.

Once per year we relive our youth and pretend

that we were naughty old lovers meeting for a tryst

Role play, you see, is a healthy way

To keep the home fires burning.

Bet you thought that I was being bad!

Well. Maybe just a little!

Or maybe this is a lie I tell myself to justify my actions.

I leave that mystery entirely up to you.