They wonder why she lugs around
That ancient bookbag
That torn folder
That seemingly useless notebook
I wonder not
For I know why

I tell them that she lugs around
That ancient bookbag
Because of the little notes from years gone by still crumpled at the bottem
That torn folder
Because it once held her favorite piece of original artwork
That seemingly useless notebook
Because she wrote down things about friends who have vanished
Now they wonder not
Now they know I understand

I myself lug around
An ancient bookbag
A torn folder
And a seemingly useless notebook
Among countless other memories
For the same reasons

Naught is permanent,
Save a memory that is passed down
And memories like those
Are worth the queries
Of “Why so you lug around…
That ancient bookbag?”
That torn folder?”
That seemingly useless notebook?”
And so she hoards those memories
For those that shall continue her race
So do not question
The actions of the young and wise