Happy Thanksgiving and a poem.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry.
The simple items we hold special in old age.)
An old box filled with simple gifts,
shiny stones from the Big Surf,
sea shells from the coast of Europe and
many photo books from the past.
Last book my father read,
old silver dollars father’s collected,
father’s silver stars from the Korean war.
Souvenirs of the heart,
held safely away for us to touch in private.
Pictures of beautiful girls who are not forgotten,
photos of kids who have their own now.
Grandma’s personal diary and her bible.
Grandpa’s old newspapers he held with honor.
Letters written to me when I was away in faraway wars.
Each of us have our souvenirs.
They become leftover things to make us remember faces and kind words.
I wonder what will happen to my trinkets?
I took my elders memories and store them in simple box.
They are precious items to my old heart.
I tell the young. Take something from the people we loved.
Souvenirs of the heart are needed when we need to gain strength from old words
and good memories.