Pictures, postcards, letters sent.  Boxes filled with treasure.
   Ribbons tied in bows and knots.  More memories then I can measure.
A book covered in layers of dust, a rose on page twenty two.
It's petals dry and cracked with age.  Lovely when it was new.
Music so worn from listening, no one remembers the tune.
It was given with love once upon a time, beneath an Autumn's moon.
Heart shaped box's of satin and lace, faded and falling apart.
The smell of chocolate wafts through the air, causing tears to start.
A poem folded in the toe of the shoe, he used to wear every day.
Put there such a long time ago, guaranteed always to stay.
These are the things I found the day I went through Mommy's door.
Now she remembers a younger man, who doesn't come around any more.
She doesn't know his name now, or mine, as a matter of fact.
She calls him, "That guy that used to live here, but one day,
he didn't come back."
It's sad to see her memories, scattered all over the floor.
As I pack them away in the attic, to live there for ever more.
But time has a way of erasing, the things that once broke our hearts.
The trouble is it can also, take away the special parts.
Of the memories of the loved ones, that we used to see every day.
Of the good things from long ago, that we wish, always could stay