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OLD RIBBONS
 

There was soft pastel ribbon
Tied in bows around each pack,
Nestled, filling each old box,
Stack after stack.

In pulling loose the bows,
I found memories galore.
I placed some near a window.
If time allowed, I’d open more.

It was an old and musty attic
Where I had seen boxes stacked.
Once reminded what they contained,
I went on the attack.

Ribbons soon cluttered the floor.
Each had revealed some memory.
There were faded pictures
From lands afar of you and me.

Found, also, were scribblings,
We dutifully made every day.
Hotel paper and napkins
Held reminders, lest we delay.

If you had been there with me,
I would have pointed out so much.
But, since you are no longer here,
Why do I still feel your touch?

There I sat among the ribbons
You had tied so carefully,
When there would always be ‘tomorrow’
For you and me.

cj

By The_Pip2

© 2019 The_Pip2 (All rights reserved)

 

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