As hues of red and orange fill up the sky
I pick and pack the glow of sunset
With words I had saved
Cleaned and wrapped in a cloth with lace border
Sprinkled rose petals
So they remain fresh and perfumed
And locked them inside my cupboard..
I could never use them
Or burn them.
When I am gone
Take the key from my bedside table
Open them
They may have withered
Lost their sheen and voice
But may still feel warm
When you touch them.