I used to keep a
box of memories
and over time
I kept shifting the contents
from smaller
to larger box.
Once when I was
switching boxes,
I lost my grip
and it fell and broke,
scattering my memories
mementos
anecdotes
across the floor,
like beads
from a busted necklace.
Seeing them all there
the pearls mixed in with the dross,
the voice spoke:
“why are you keeping
everything?
You can’t even remember why
you wanted to keep it
all.”
So, I picked out
a proper display case
to honor the pearls
and threw out
everything else.
A box of memories
can weight you down,
so now I have a smaller,
lighter box of dreams,
which helps me fly.
Memories really are just the stories we tell ourselves, aren't they? Thanks for stopping by my blog!
ReplyDeleteLove this!
ReplyDeleteThis one really really blessed me. Too many of my memories aren't good, so I really like the idea of a box of dreams instead! :) Thank you, thank you, thank you!
ReplyDeleteAwesome. OK, this is my 3rd comment on the 3rd poem so I think that means I need to add you to my feedreader. :)
ReplyDeleteI love it. So much. That box of dreams that helps you fly.
ReplyDelete