anonymous…

anonymous

unsorted
boxes
of memories
no one
to recall
the laughter
of how scenes
evolved
or
to decode
the initials
blurred between
lines of dreams
dreams
written
as cryptic notes
on the back
of each
paper time capsule
capsules
of so many lives
and memories
reduce
to
unsorted
boxes

12 thoughts on “anonymous…

  1. A lot of truth in this one, as keeper of all the boxes of both sides of my family, there are many stories I wish I could know but there is no one left to ask, sadness.

  2. it’s funny cause right now hubs is browsing through old computer files with family pics and videos – and each is a whole story – and sometimes i can even recall how the air smelled

  3. I had a similar feeling when i was at the Paris saturday markets, there was a stall that had hundreds of personal postcards from the last 100 years , I wish I knew more French… I wanted to stand there peering into lives past… marvelling at moments that now cost one euro each

  4. Reduced to unsorted boxes. A poignant reality. We try our best to record and preserve, only to end up stored in closets, basements, and attics. And sometimes….we’d just rather not revisit what once was or wasn’t what it appeared to be.

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