Boxes sit in corners, still,
Holding secrets, space to fill.
Cardboard walls, both short and tall,
Guarding treasures, big and small.
In the attic, dusty, old,
Boxes keep the stories told.
Photographs and letters lie,
Moments caught in days gone by.
Once played with at the park
Now scrunched up in the dark
Toys count on boxes to keep them whole
And hope for future hands to hold
Moving day, they’re on the go,
Packing life up, to and fro.
Books and dishes, clothes and art,
Boxes hold a home’s true heart.
As years pass by, they dampen, fray,
Forgotten in the dark, they stay.
Full of stuff, but with empty heart,
Quietly, they fall apart.