in the Box
Come, look with me inside of this drawer,
In this box I have often seen,
At the pictures, black and white,
Faces proud, still, serene.
I wish I knew the people,
These strangers in the box.
Their names and all their memories
Are lost among my socks.
I wonder what their lives were like,
How did they spend their days?
What about their special times?
I'll never know their ways.
If someone had only taken time
To tell who, what, where, or when,
Those faces of my heritage
Would come to life again.
Could this be the fate
Of the pictures we take today?
The faces and the memories
Someday to be passed away?
Make time to save your stories.
Seize the opportunity when it knocks,
Or someday you and yours could be
The strangers in the box.
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