Box Of Memories Poem by Lily Jeanne Spear

My little box of memories,
Holds so many dear to me
There's my father and mother,
And sister and brother.

There's my Grandpa and Grandma,
Thier picture is so clear,
They tought me not to lie,
And to always be sincere.

Some keep them in a scrap-book,
Of whitch they hide away,
I keep them in a little box,
That i look at every day.

Peaceful little pictures,
Of my world and the world to be,
I may get a chance to go there someday,
To see what the eye can see.

Though I do hope and pray,
That it will stay that way,
For I might walk these once green paths
Torn by the beseeching clay.

On the brink,
Of ages Past,
On the Plank,
Hope always dies last.

Hear the waves,
On the twisting sea,
Tast the salty air,
And feel the days of eterity.

I wonder where I would be,
If that little box of memories
Wasn't there to comfort me
Through my days of Misery.