The Old Tin Box

When a rainy day made his old bones ache,

And life was dismal and hard to take,
And he couldn't go to the park and chat
With his cronies, over this and that.

That's when he'd ask for the small tin box
With its rusty hinges and ancient locks
And he wouldn't open it, not until
I'd left him alone to look his fill
At its precious contents and then he'd say
"Put it back child, for another day."

I used to wonder but didn't dare
Ask him what treasures he kept in there,
What were the mysteries he hid
Under its scarred and dented lid?
But I never looked and I never pried,
It was Grandfather's secret till he died.

He left me the box with a whispered word
That nobody else ever knew or heard
The he folded his hands on his tired breast
And closed his eyes for his last long rest.

I took the keys and opened the locks
And the hinges creaked on the ancient box
And I saw what it held was more precious than gold
The long ago things of the very old.

Some dried rose petals, a lock of hair
Wrapped in tissue with loving care,
A velvet ribbon of faded blue
A Valentine card and a baby's shoe
And grandmother's wedding ring worn thin
And old watch fob and a cameo pin.

And I thought as I put them all away,
How much they had meant on a rainy day
To a man whose life was ebbing fast
And loved to live in the golden past
Reliving the moments of days gone by
Perhaps with a tear or a gentle sigh ---

I was glad he had left me the small tin box
With its rusty hinges and ancient locks
And I'd keep its dear secrets safe under the lid
And treasure it always ---
like Grandfather did.

~ Alice E. Chase ~