The Weight of Memories
by plainspokenrefuse
· 07/12/2025
Published 07/12/2025 14:42
Dust motes swirled, as I opened the box,
where scent of the aged turned my thoughts into locks.
An old book lay waiting, its pages turned brown,
a chronicle tethered to history’s crown.
Yellowed with time, each word whispers low,
a library silence, the stories I know.
Yet nostalgia stings sharp, a bittersweet brew,
where the smell of the old sings of who we once knew.