Most days the lonely box
Sits on the shelf
Watching you running
Busy in your daily life
With no time to stop
The box watches you silently
As you go on stuffing it
With tit bits
And little things
That you save for later
But you have no time to open
Someday out of the blue
You might notice the box
And bring it down
The contents spill
Onto you like splattered paint
Painting you in a canvas
Of multicoloured emotions
Sometimes you open it unknowingly
Sometimes it bursts open
When you need it the most
But it's a treasure house
Unappreciated often
Storing for you
Your much appreciated parts
Like a diary guarding your secrets
When you open the box
You might smile
Or a tear might roll down
Sometimes you open it passively
At other times with anger
But you shut it later
And store it away
Till the bits keep on piling again
Over years they fade
The things you so zealously saved
But that doesn't make them
Go away for ever
They're just buried
Under a pile of new ones
Moments, memories
Created and cherished
All to be locked away
And enjoyed at leisure
When we open
The box of memories