The Matchbox
When I was a child I loved a little matchbox. It was made of cardboard, long and thin, small enough to disappear in a child’s palm. I carried it everywhere I went. I loved everything about this matchbox. Its lightness, the way it grew damp in my grasp. The way the drawer slid open to reveal a tiny holding place. It has sometimes been said that the longing for small things is a longing for life. But what is the longing for a holding place too small to hold much of anything. This is something I wonder all the time.
Photo Credit: Rob Barber
i love it!
I loved matchboxes too. I love your descriptions
I liked matchboxes, too, until the firecrackers went off
Little matchbox
my no-longer childish palm
Rattles my Hopes and Dreams
An epilogue?
Jess:IT’S ALWAYS A PLEASURE TO READ YOUR WORK! It brings back nice memories,too, like that trip to Sherborne, Dorset, all those years ago. Do let me know, please, if anything brings you to New York. With admiration and affection, Bob H