Secrets in a box

I have a box on the shelf in the spare bedroom
The box has blue and white stripes, I think
It was a shoebox, perhaps bought for a child that
I was not born; my youth is in that box
Sometimes, when alone, I open the box, and it has
many photos of life lived in the seventies
Many friends are smiling for the camera
My ex-wife, too. What they have in common is
that they are all dead
I received a delayed letter from Alex, a friend  
By then, I knew he had died, the letter in the box
unopened 
I look at the photos like a visitor from a past life
I do not feel sorrow or guilt. I was a difficult 
person to live with, even though I had friends
that loved me
I put the lid back on the box. The visit is over
I must go on living in the now.