Scraps

Tie together the stories of the past a broken heart a teardrop or two And a half written poem about the color blue A notebook jammed with my history and dotted with rhymes an old porch swing, nearly forgotten I remember those times A poem of laughter or sadness of joy A torn love note to me with the worst poem ever written by a twelve year old boy I pick up the scraps and put them away knowing I'll need them once more, someday