The Memory Box

Beneath this table sits a box It’s scruffy, thin and battered. A cardboard box of memories Of days that really mattered. Confetti from my wedding day A drawing by my mother The shoes that took my son to school. A photo of my brother A tattered book of rhyming verse My dad’s infatuation. A silken flower, grandma’s ball A golden celebration. A pipe my granddad carved with love A boyhood skill he cherished. His baccy tin is scratched and bare Its precious contents perished. A tarnished ring with stones of paste. My sister’s finest treasure A suitor's gift, now black with age Of value without measure. This box hold moments lost in time We add things when we’re able A memory from everyone Who’s sat around this table.