Boxes of Memories

Wrapped in newspapers, a person's life goes. An Appraiser values life's accomplishments, Sometimes items that are not expensive are often more missed. Dispersed among family, somethings too memorable to keep. A life is simply more than the sum of the parts. Take everything apart and put in boxes, it seems so small. But breath life into those four walls, And nothing else is required. The walls, the contents are handed down, Memories will not be forgetten, and oft re-visited. It will be queer at first, building new memories, But they will mingle, not mangle with the old. It is this mingle that is most confusing, A mingle of both sorrow and joy. But, this is how they wanted it, it was meant to be. Pots that were cooked in, Dishes that served. Silverware that cut, jabbed and nourished. Although the meal can not be replicated, Serving it refreshs our memories of the time it was. We serve an extra place setting, a gapping whole in the fam. It can be patched, not replaced, it never can. Boxes of memories, I hope do not gather dust. They were meant to be aired, used, not preserved. This is how they wanted it, it was meant to be.This is completly unpolished.... I want to leave it realitively that way. Written April 14th, 2002 © on Apr 14 2002 01:44 PM PST   0 • 12