In my box of memories,
Are photographs of me and you,
Hand written notes, some done in crayon,
With those three words, ” I Love you.”
Some dried up flowers that you had picked,
From fields along your daily walks,
I miss those times remembered now my dear,
These now more treasured items,
And of our infrequent, but yet loving talks.
You’re still with me, but yet I travel,
In this box of my most treasured memories,
To keep my mind and heart on track,
Of what loving you has really meant to me.
By: Linda Winchell
Copyright: 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem