The room is hushed
The air is still.
Possessions forgot
Lie on the sill.

A music box sweet and low.
Letters written long ago.
Flowers once brought home,
Now sit faded and alone.

Blurry drawings from pen and ink.
Book that taught me how to think.
Clay molded with chubby hands.
Sticks and stones. Shells and sand.

Items old but no less dear,
Than they were back many years.
The clocks ticks no more, but time moves on,
To life, and love, and friendships long.

I stand in the present remembering the past.
The echoes of laughter will always last.
Taking with me all the times that have gone.
My soul’s foundation to build upon.

Although these moments no longer exist,
I’ve learned each breath is too sweet to miss.
So I’ll face forward and move ahead—
There are pages of life’s book I haven’t yet read.