Flowers and butterflies

Butterflies and flowers

I found that memories were all that I had and I clung to every single one of them. All of them were so precious to me and were completely irreplaceable. Hence this poem:


My treasure box isn’t filled with diamonds and gold
But rather with memories and trinkets of old
A cuff link, a watch band, a tie that’s a fad
All things that remind me of the life that we had

I hide my treasure box in my own special place
Where no one can see the expressions on my face
As I kiss each trinket while heaving a sigh
Holding dear all my memories that will never die

My treasure box is not fancy nor is it of gold
But the joy that it brings me cannot even be told
It is mine, mine alone and I’ll never share
As others couldn’t understand nor would they care

I open my treasure box when I am alone
And smile at your ties, your caps, your cologne
I try on each item and inhale your essence
And soon I begin to feel your presence

My little treasure box is filled to the brim
And conjures up thoughts that aren’t really so grim
I dream of how we will meet once again
And dance on forever without knowledge of pain


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