This box is filled with Valentines.

They remind me of your smile,

As you worked with crayon, and ribbon, and lace,

Humming quietly all the while.

 

As I shuffle through the years of cards,

Sweet memories come unraveled,

Spooling loving thoughts around me —

My child, how very far you’ve traveled.

 

Those barely glued-on images,

And words scribbled in a scrawl,

Those imaginary characters,

All drawn when you were small.

 

Although no longer made by hand,

Your cards still touch my heart.

Embroidered with such loving words,

All the richer, now we’re miles apart.