I comb through the many articles that may seem like junk
To the untrained eye; but to my mind these things make my treasure trunk.
I traced what I've kept, following a paper trail
Curious and apprehensive of the nostalgia it would entail.
Little bits of notes and large slabs of cards
Words that spoke of a future that now belong to a past.
Dates that used to mean something but now have to be foregone
Cute little drawings, and even cuter songs.
Stuffed toys and books and all the photographs
Memories that were sweet, but are now, I suppose, done.
I followed the paper trail down our times,
Then placed them in a box again and put it aside.
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