The Button Bag

Afternoons in winter; When the hours seemed to drag, Were always made more bearable With grandma's button bag. The sound is unmistakable, The rattle, ting and clunk, Of the decades of collected Baubles, buckles, coins and junk. Each button tells a story, Where and when it was acquired, Those cut off coats and dresses, Mary years before admired. The bag is full of memories Stories from the past, So we pass them to our children In the hope nostalgia lasts.