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.
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