KeepsakeA Poem by Chris ShawA second write about the subject matter, originally penned ten years ago
when the lid opens
old hinges creak and groan as contents of mum's heavy wooden tea chest are left to breathe in fragrance of freesia wafting through the sitting room pass me downs photographs documents dog-eared certificates discoloured creased with age spanning a century of dead relatives I search disturbing dust motes for something special of sentimental worth specific to the date of my birth buried in this musty treasure trove my father's wallet well worn brown leather ingrained with life last seen three decades ago containing a wrist band placed on tiny me on the day I was born he was twenty one a soldier he carried that band till the day of his demise my eyes scan in hope for a stroke of good fortune for he loved me without conditions and that simple pink tag bearing the name he chose for me is without doubt completely priceless © 2022 Chris ShawFeatured Review
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40 Reviews Added on September 5, 2022 Last Updated on September 5, 2022 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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