Memories are tricky things
when all we have is now
We keep them in little boxes
arranged neatly in a pile
We sort them in many ways
by date or place or time
Happy or sad, joy or regret
in the archives of the mind
Some boxes we hold so dear
their contents bright and clear
Some boxes we try to hide
broken pieces lie inside
For me I have special boxes
a different and treasured kind
They safeguard beautiful pictures
of a time when you were mine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem