Little time capsules lie hidden,
beneath the turmoil of passing life.
Tiny mementoes laid down,
by strangers that passed this way.
Pieces of life from years gone by.
An empty cigarette packet,
someone enjoyed the contents,
But when?
The question remains unanswered.
Nuts, bolts, washers and screws.
These mementoes suggest something,
and another question.
Standing here I look around me,
remembering my time here,
and wondering what mementoes,
my life has left for strangers,
in the future years.
Again another question,
But not one I care to answer.
28 Feb.1986
Those little things mean so much, don't they, David. On the subject of little reminders I have a long hank of golden-blonde hair, wrapped in tissue and carefully stored, along with home-made Christmas cards and school reports.... a precious memory of something long past but never forgotten. Thank you for this lovely poem, David. Love, Fran xxx
Wonderful isn't it, looking at these things, an old cigarette package, an old dress, jacket, or an old chair tossed away in a corner. They were owned, possibly treasured by someone in the past. As a poet you would leave beautiful poems as momentoes and your literary verse would live on for years and years to come....... with your name attached. MARVELOUS! ! ! ! ! ----Melvina----
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You know sometime you do think who has been in this spot before, a roman maybe stood in this very spot, history all around...10