The Boxes in the Hall

In every Room of our time together there is a box,
Of memories we shared,
Now is the time to pack away,
With Sadness and with Care.

The first is a simple smile,
When ever I thought of you,
Neatly folded into four,
It's the best that I could do.

Next are all the memories,
Of the times when we were two,
Wrapped with love one by one,
Sealed with tears as glue.

And then there are the butterflies,
I had when you were near,
Now in a cage of sadness,
And locked up with a tear.

Next are the times we kissed,
Each one wrapped with a sigh,
Placed next to a rolled up list,
Of all the times I've asked my self why.

Now to pack are the pieces of my heart,
Gathered in a pile,
Each one wrapped up tenderly,
And placed next to a distant smile.

Finally all the shattered wishes,
Placed in softly so no more can break,
Covering them over trying not to cry,
So they would not all ache.

Lastly walking round each room,
Closing each and every curtain,
Shutting each and every door,
Leaving behind each and ever pain.

Gathering up the memories we shared,
Making sure I've got them all,
Packing them softly because I cared,
Leaving them in the boxes in the hall.