What is it there beneath the lid,

creaking wood of memories crypt

remembered scent and sound of days

so far gone by,

useless bric-a-brac hovering

on the edge of a thought

almost forgotten,

but not quite yet.

Are there stories in there lurking beneath dust,

has it been ages since the light has seen

these images of yellowed tattered remnants

of broken hearts and letters from loved ones

now gone into the ethereal skies

waiting without another chance to be,

or to whisper a final goodbye.

Are there fragile pieces wrapped in silk,

tucked in gently lest they break from handling,

a feather from somewhere on travels afar

or rocks in shades of mysterious caves,

reds and grays,

stacked upon books saved for rainy days,

what treasure is there

buried in your mind,

words left to find

to write,

to live a life of their own

to be shared,

to be gathered and loved.

7 thoughts on “Treasured

  1. awesome, both of them, thanks so much for sharing. I think we all have a treasure box in one form or another and we keep that which is important or sacred to our souls within, sharing it at times with others, cleaning it out as needed and touching the contents to remember. Peace and blessings, K ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This poem resonated with me because I’ve written about my treasure box which incidentally looks very similar to the image you’ve used. I thought I’d share it. I’m reminded to check up on it again. Another interesting point is that as in your Blog name, I remember now that I have a little bottle of patchouli essential oil in there. Here are the two posts:


  3. i just emailed you ❤ be well my friend and saying prayers, I know how hard this has been on you and now even more sorrow and sleepless nights wracked with worry. I know you, be strong ❤


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