My storage box of memories
holds so many different things
not just written on a card or
stored up in memory.
There are photos of when my husband
and I first met, a wedding photo or two.
Was I that young and slender?
Now only in my dreams.
The drawings from my little children
who now have children of their own.
Children's tiny handprints set
forever in plaster of Paris, too.
Oh, the old high school year books
with photos of all my friends and me.
We shared so much and had fun back
in the happy days of the '50s.
Still, we may grow old,
but all our memories remain stored
in a big box that when we open it,
we are still young in heart.
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