In this life, we all, have things, which memory, seems to borrow,
Inside the emotion, that comes along, within, happiness and sorrow,
We each, may have, those little things, mementos of the past,
That make, a memory, seem alive, through the shadows life has cast.
I, like you, have these things, I keep them, close, at hand,
Hoping that, they may cause, a trip, to, warm, white sand,
I wear, a chain, around my neck, and I’ll wear it, until I die,
A token, that I gave, to her, before, she had to fly.
Just, a simple, silver chain, yet valuable, to me,
A symbol of, real love, a promise, of what could be,
Something, to hold onto, that makes memory, so real,
A symbol, of my future, and all those things, I feel,
If, one day, she can forgive, overlook, the things, I’ve done,
She can look, at these things, tokens, of what, I’ve won,
When, she finally, talks, to me, I can show her, these little things,
One thing, I will place, in her hand, and wipe, the tears, it brings.
The odd thing, if you, think of it, is, memories, do not lie,
Though, they’re echos, of the past, inside, the tears, you cry,
All, these things, should bring, a smile, dry, those tears, that fall,
Because, with these things, you can see, it wasn’t, a lie, at all!!
Believe.Remember!! And LOVE,