© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)
The new mattress arrived, even an hour earlier than the appointed time. The drivers were efficient, fast! To Rosie's surprise when the old box springs came off, she blushed. For revealed there was not nice clean carpet, but two large flat cases of beautiful art papers. Rosie years ago had had art supply frenzy when she scratched out her first efforts. Then there was a dirth of activity because she was carpooling, working, cleaning, riding herd on growing teenagers. When she had the room painted, she slid those cases under a very low bed which would not accommodate the vacuum cleaner or even a mop. She expected to be embarrassed by dust bunnies, though the tops of the cases flooded the air with a carcinigen-causing, allergy provoking cloud. And you say, "So what?" After her dry spell, Rosie picked up pencils and chalk again but had no paper, she thought. She has spent many inflated dollars on new papers, when what she wanted was right under the guest bed! For you exceptionally literate ones, and you all are, you recognize this as the allegory it is, not a simple tale.
© By RickMack (Rmrickmack@aol.com)
Had we known that they were treasures,
We would have taken better care,
Surely, taken certain measures,
To assure they’d always be there.
But we took them all for granted,
And stored them away, as one does,
Bringing them out just when wanted –
No matter how seldom that was.
So many slides and photographs,
Chronicling the children’s days,
Capturing the tears and the laughs,
The parties, vacations, school plays.
In albums, artfully displayed,
Page after page, captions and dates;
And slides, in carousels arrayed,
Family, children and playmates.
We knew our minds couldn’t store
All the memories we had shared,
So we took photographs galore -
For reminiscence we prepared.
We’d have time in our old age,
To sit with the albums in hand,
To thoughtfully peruse each page,
To relive times, when life was grand.
Up on closet shelves they were kept,
Each album and slide carousel,
Until, through the house, fire swept,
And photographs consigned to Hell.
Some memories we still retain,
But the details, with age, now fade.
If we had it to do again,
For a flameproof safe we’d have paid.
NOTE: In January, 1996, while wintering in Florida, our home in New England was gutted by fire and we lost everything. The photo albums and slides were our greatest loss. All else could be easily replaced.
© By Sharon (Sunyskys1943@aol.com)
Old treasures that mean a lot to me
The Old Geezer is the best of these
He is old and been with me so long
His body not so great but love strong
In my house a round table of wood
Once in my parents cabin it stood
Where family gathered each holiday
On it we as children games use to play
Mom's treadle sewing machine is here
Dresses and shirts from it would appear
She made curtains and many bedspreads
Doing this since the day she was wed
In the guest room an antique dry sink
My Aunties memories it brings link
In an attic bedroom made for guests
A four poster bed was there to rest
A little elephant pitcher old
It's better than a big pot of gold
In my childhood it was so well used
When offered It wasn't refused
But most old treasures that I hold dear
Can't be seen nor can I even hear
Memories of people throughout my life
Who helped to placate most of my strife
© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)
The oldest treasures are in my head.
No space for things material.
Kept tucked behind my eyes instead,
An on-going "My Life" serial.
Things I've had and things I've lost,
Would fill up too much space.
No matter what they had cost,
They'd be gone without a trace.
This way I keep them close to me.
They're in my head forever.
Only there for me to see,
And I will lose them...Never!
Thought I lost and couldn't find
All those things I left behind.
Priceless treasures that they were,
No diamonds or a costly fur.
Some I loved, others just liked.
From hiding places they have hiked.
Put away January to December,
And just where, I don't remember.
There will come a day, I know,
All that's hidden will be on show.
When they ask, "Where was that?"
I'll tell them, "It was under my hat."
© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)
Into my closet I did go,
To throw out some old junk.
Make room for new stuff,
To discard old stuff.
First I found a program,
"Much Ado About Nothing"
As presented by the
Next was a pressed rose,
From 47 when my Grandma died.
And a spool tractor,
In the second grade I had made.
Next there was a Big “M”
My high school letter I had earned.
Then a big old cat’s eye taw,
Not very good at marbles was I at shooting.
Then an ID tag from the Beta Club,
Honor Society’s big convention.
Then oh I did smile, an essay on TB,
In letter form, first place I did win.
A pair of small metal chevrons,
When I made SSgt in the Marines.
Finally a pair of golden leaves,
The ones I wore when I retired.
I sat and looked and reminisced
For two whole hours, I really did.
Then I put them all away,
Nothing there I could throw away.