There is a room with a door
Just down those stairs
And at the end of the hall.
It is seldom used
With dust and cobwebs up in the boughs.
Inside this room a chest sits
Tucked away in the back
The sides are rough and unsanded
With designs deeply engraved on the top
And smells of baby oil
(For I spilled some on it ages ago)
Inside are some things that I cherished
When my hair was not so gray.
An angelic ornament that is
Small and heavy, I believe it's made
Of iron with writing and a delicate
Feather detailing upon it.
A piece of marble grandpa
Used as a paperweight
Promising to carve a tiny sculpture
From it, but he died before he got the chance...
Oh! And a piece of sea glass we found
On our honeymoon! The waves had rounded
Out the jagged edges of the bottle top.
And a small dull shell we found on
Our last trip to the beach.
Do be careful when you fetch them dear
They are not just objects
But my memories
(And they are so hard to come by these days!"