The box under my bed been
There for as long as I remember.
It's filled with newspaper clippings,
Drawings, and old school tests and notes.
And yet, I still manage to fit more.
Through time, it becomes amazing
How mush one accumulates.
Everything from paper to clothes
To long-lost toys can be found in the box.
Some are saddened when they look upon their box.
But I am not.
I love my box and all the memories
It holds in its care.
For as one grows older,
I believe that we
Should be able to reflect on days passed
By using the box as a guide.
Thus the invention of the box, or box's in my case,
Under the bed aught too be regarded
With remembrance.