From the Grave
There was a box kept upon a shelf
An old and tattered pretty box
Inside were all my precious memories
All my happiness, my sorrows and tears
Kept safe from my crumbling mind
The lid always closed and locked
And when I wanted to remember again
My childhood, youth and decay
Slowly, I opened the worn lid
With gnarled hands, I held my life
Remembering all the chapters
All the love, hardship and sorrows
But most I treasured happiness
And how I loved this life
Lived
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June 28, 2013
Poetry/Free Verse/From The Grave
Copyright Protected, ID 06-489-117-28
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2013
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