Grey Thoughts

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Boxes

So many things I’ve saved and kept, throughout the passing years

At times I run across them, causing melancholy tears

Each keys a certain memory brought to mind from distant past

Most often feelings soft and warm, the ones that seem to last.

Animals made from wool and yarn I’d take to bed each night

I’d clutch them tightly to my chest as Mum turned out the light

Safe beneath my coverlets as I drifted off to sleep

They stayed my silent guardians as in dreams I counted sheep.

A toy chest made from scratch by Dad, hand painted by my Mum

With characters from the world of Pooh, so happy, never glum

They pranced around the sides and front, I knew them all by name

And on the top it said “JIM’S TOYS” as bold as candle’s flame.

A baseball mitt, pulled from a box, dark leather smooth and hard

Initials on the thumb insured return from friend’s backyard

The horsehide ball now grey and worn, red stitching still intact

Each scuff from dirt and pavement like another memory stacked.

And what about the scouting badge for woodsman’s crafty skills

Camping out in Autumn with a fire to chase wind’s chills

A tent to keep the rain at bay if weather turned quite foul

The stars against the blackest sky, the hoot of distant owl.

A yearbook from my high school, smiling photos staring out

Playing in the marching band and cheers that we would shout

Walking halls and wondering if a girl might want to date

Awkward phone calls often made at times a bit too late.

Each box within my basement holds collected life events

Dragged along as memories aid to keep in present tense

Perhaps no longer needed as I’m nearer to life’s end

Yet all I ever was is there, a cardboard flock to tend.

Like Midas in his castle with his coffers filled with gold

I feel each box is priceless, could not bear to see it sold

Although I am but one small life, my story’s not unique

But I still enjoy my boxes, perhaps you’d like a peek?

By James Geehring

From: United States

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