Summer’s exploration

We pried one small silver

square

from the top of that box

we found in a field.

We used my Dad's screwdriver,

old and rusted as it was.

It left scratches on the shiny surface

marking it forever

as broken into.

"Someone was here"

it seemed to say.

Inside, was nothing but dirt

and time

shadows of one more summer

before we found ourselves

something better,

soft hands

rounded hips

sweet breath on breath.