Threw out old boxes,
Regrets and photographs,
Empty pockets and lockets,
A dusty trail of memories lies,
In worn cardboard, creased and worn by sighs,
Faded faces, moments lost in time,
Echoes of a life that's left its prime.
Regrets and photographs, a bittersweet refrain,
Echoes of what could have been, a love in vain,
Empty pockets, once filled with promises true,
Now hold only the weight of what's left to do.
The lockets, once filled with tender love,
Now hang like ghosts, sent from above,
A reminder of what's been and gone,
Leaving only the ache of a heart that's grown.
In the silence, whispers whisper low,
Of what could have been, had things turned to grow,
But even in the shadows, love remains,
A beacon in the darkness, a heart that still sustains.
In the midst of the past, a glimmer shines,
A chance to heal, to mend the frayed lines,
To let go of what's holding you back,
And find the courage to look forward, to look back.
For in the dust of old boxes and memories too,
Lies a chance to rediscover, to renew.
© S.P