Hav-A-Tampa

Along the walls are shelves of boxes,

in the basement of our family home,
Daddy stacked the boxes neatly together.
They've been there for years all alone.

The boxes are like tiny museums,
that will soon be opened at last.
Used to hold cigars from Hav-A-Tampa.
Now they hold artifacts from the past.

The lids are doors to the gateways.
They hold secrets soon to befell.
Each box is opened and examined.
Each one contains stories to tell.

Some hold bolts, nuts and washers,
that kept past race cars together.
These fasteners, now in retirement.
Their days of racing gone forever.

Another door held electronics,
a radio that worked now and again.
It was home built and received only A.M,
but that's really all there was back then.

The next door contained ribbon.
It seemed to be ribbons of brass.
Was used to hold together,
the rainbow colors of working stained glass.

Every door revealed items,
we had totally forgotten about.
From a swiss army knife to an 8 track of Ozzy,
I'm sure he intended to throw that one out.

What made opening the boxes so special,
was not the items or mysteries inside.
Was not the artifacts revealed,
they were just objects from a past life.

Memories of our family together,
were triggered as the lids were raised.
The aroma of the Hav-A-Tampa's,

brought us home to our childhood days.

R.S. Morris