The Box

there is a box in the back of the closet
filled with yesterdays memories
and dreams that never came true
every once in a while i open it up
setting the moths of hopelessness free
there is a photograph from christmas morning
taken when i was three months old
the only photo of my dad i still posess
a smile of pride fills his eyes
i have a monkey in my arms
there a pictures of girls i've loved
and friends i have left behind
each photo brings a bitter tear
i should toss them all but i know i never will
there is a rosary my great grandmother held
every morning during mass
the beads are worn from her nightly prayers
reflecting her undying faith
while my path may not have followed hers
the rosary reminds me of those simpler times
there is a comic strip from the sunday times
with charlie brown simple wisdom
he lies awake alone in the dark
wondering who cares for the caregiver
there is some letters from a long lost friend
who turned his back and walked away
never knowing the pain he caused
or the wounds he left behind
all this and so much more
fill this box of moldy memories
reminding me of days gone by
and where i used to be