Keep This In Mind

Elaborate existential ephemera filled the box and spilled out a dusty display.

Fear froze its contents in place to free my fear of lost memories that might stray.

Torn and tattered things I never believed I could give away,

reminded me of memories that moved my life’s swing and sway.

Curiosities collected in a cardboard box, fearing pain if not seen each day.

Seeing them so unorganized now, I clearly never missed them anyway.

I don’t even remember why they had to stay just to fade and decay.

Inanimate mementos can be lost with little delay, while the mind saves a backup evoking a grateful hooray.

Digging deeper, finding pieces of my life with lessons learned the hard way.

Turning the box over was a metaphorical match to my life’s essay.

The box is now empty with most mementos tossed out to dissolve in a nearby landfill or bay,

but my life is fuller now with meaningful memories more likely to slay.

A new box of memories decorates my entryway.

Made of steel, not cardboard, keeping stronger memories, I pray.

Gone are most of my old cardboard memory-box foray,

I kept only one memory from my notable 13th birthday.

A card from my mother is on the bottom, and with me, it will always stay.

Love is the only memorabilia I ever parlay.

I wish we could talk again, for I’d heed every word she would relay.

Perhaps the old cardboard box now faraway,

was worth retrieving the birthday card for the words my mother wrote to me that day,

“Happy birthday, my beautiful girl. I can only afford a card on your special day.

Things can be lost or given away, and will never cause the joy my heart feels I must convey.

My words of love I give you today, keep them forever in your heart as you may.

I love you deeply, but there are no words that can’t come close to the love I want to portray.

I can’t believe my baby is 13 today! You fill me with unending joy every day in every way! Happy birthday!”

Rebelliously, I walked away from your unending love, I’m now ashamed to say.

I miss you so much each second of every day; nothing has ever been able to outweigh.

There’s only one thing left which I would not miss, yet it must stay.

The heartbreak I caused you, breaks my heart to my dismay.

Here, take my heart, in a metaphorical way.

You gave it to me to grow up and play. Yet, my grief makes it feel like dried-up clay.

Without you here, it seems useless, since it aches for a revised replay.

But, my heart is your heart and I’ll treasure each beat til I’m old and grey.