Most everyone has a drawer,
Of their personal stash,
Where they keep, precious,
News clippings, pictures, memories,
Tucked away, old concert tickets,
Items only special to them,
And their visions, of past days.
To others, it's their junk spot,
No material value, to the items stored,
Even to those who will acquire them,
They will throw most of the stuff,
With trash out the back door.
Memories, are a recollection,
Noteworthy, consequential,
A tribute to a certain, past experience,
Discovered at different times,
Some will bring confusion,
Others will bring a smile to your face,
Along with a peaceful feeling, in your mind.
The Original: Tom Maxwell © 6/3/23 AD
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem