He put his aging dreams
into a small silver casket
placed it in a locked metal box
and threw away the key.

Then into a cardboard box
taped tightly closed
dropped into an old suitcase
tied shut with a clothesline
and finally into a steamer trunk
wrapped with chains and locked.
Its labels: colorful reminders
of the ghosts of dreams past.
He dragged the now heavy trunk
down three flights of narrow stairs
and through the snow covered
midnight streets to the bridge
on the edge of town
and unceremoniously pushed it
over the iron railing to drop down
into the frigid waters racing
to the anonymity of the sea.
He retraced his steps back
to the tiny two room apartment
dodging through the shadows
like a thief through alley and street
and up the worn and creaking stairs
and through the double locked doors
finally falling upon the unmade bed
only to find his dreams there
waiting up for him.