My Memory Box

My Memory Box

Life is sometimes easy, full of laughter and of joy
But it’s sometime somewhat slower, and rests heavy on this boy
But I’ve always got a fallback when the grey clouds roll my way
It’s my little box of memories, that chase the Blues away

I open up the Memory Box, and take a peek inside
Resting there a wedding ring, worn by a blushing Bride
There are photos of my family that always bring a smile
And, Look, a lock of golden hair from Susan, our first child.

Now there’s a rusty penknife, that my Grandpa gave to me
And also my Dad’s wristwatch, and his old fishing reel.
Some dollar notes from when we went to Canada that year
Just little bits and pieces but, so very, very dear.

There’s Certificates and Badges, and cuttings from the Press
Some old and faded Birthday cards they’re old, but not worth less.
Notes and pictures scribbled by some tiny hands for Gran
But they all bring more happiness than any money can

But I’ll put my Memory Box away and get back to real Life
I’m feeling strong and happier, and less weighed down by strife
It’s not so cold and lonely, and I’m feeling far less strain
Until I feel the need to find my Memory Box again.

TG