My Birthday.

My Birthday.

Box me up

Wrapped in tissue paper

Fragile

Handled with care

Kid gloves

As mother would say

No longer seen

But attached to memory

Reserved for nostalgic days

Age stained cameos

Figures and portraits

In broken frames

Some of the faces

With forgotten names

So many have fallen

By the wayside

In the journey

Time-pieces

History makers

Each tell a story

Splintering into shards

Gradually

Pushed into corners

Lightly caressed

In passing

Dusted and polished

From time to time

Until the weight

Of the past

Becomes too heavy

A burden to hold

Without slippage

And one day, like this

Sunkissed

Or bitter cold

It is gone