Hidden in boxes,
in the backs of closets.
Memories forgotten,
in cardboard deposits.

Old faded photographs,
letters from past loves.
Trinkets with more value,
than genuine leather gloves.

Rejoices and heartaches,
protected from the dust.
Half of something special,
that denotes a sacred trust.

In the corner, under clothes,
or on a shelf up high.
A treasure chest of simple things,
guaranteed to bring a sigh.

Childhood dreams and wishes,
that changed when came mature.
A safe-box of fond hopes,
that is never too secure.

It waits to be opened again,
for the next new generation.
To look at with full eyes,
and words of fascination.