Poetry

Poetry~
My words,
Captured like photographs,
Evidence that I existed-
Now I'm tipping out the box,
Overflowing, precious treasure
spilling from inside my mind,
Stooping to grasp them,
Revisit them briefly with my fingers.

Each memory it has its place
ensuring my thoughts leave a trace.
Place them back where they belong,
store them somewhere safe and strong.

Wrap each very precious thing
in tiny strips of coloured velvet....

When I've finished, find a ladder,
climb up deep inside my mind,
Ensure nothing is left behind.

Know that on a rainy day,
when I 've little left to say,
maybe trapped inside my home,
tiptoe, quiet as a mouse,
find my box of memories,
gently blow away the cobwebs...

Unfold each cloth and look inside,
opening my mind incredibly wide to
release each precious memory,
hold it up, then set if free!

Thinking back on all I did.
Now I smile and close the lid.

Every now and then a thought,
once escaped, runs through my mind, hold it gently in my hand,
make sure it's not left behind,
pop it back among the rest,
along with the very very best.

They happened long ago and yet,
These memories I won't forget.