I found this file on my computer. As I don't know where it came from I cannot provide an attribution.
Strangers in a box
Come, look with me inside this drawer,
In this box I’ve often seen,
At the pictures, black and white,
Faces proud, still, serene.
I wish I knew the people,
These strangers in the box,
There names and all their memories
Are lost among my socks.
I wonder what their lives were like,
How did they spend their days?
What about their special times?
I’ll never know their ways.
If only someone had taken the time
To tell who, what, where or when,
These face of my heritage
Would come to life again.
Could this become the fate
Of the pictures we take today?
The faces and the memories
Someday to be passed away?
Make time to save your stories,
Seize the opportunity when it knocks,
Or someday you and yours could be
The strangers in the box.
Anonymous
As a family historian I wish that I could unravel some of the stories behind the unnamed, undated photos in our family's photo collection.
What a terrific poem! I hate to think of my precious photos ending up like that. We've often made fun of my Mum who labels everything including all her photos but we really shouldn't.
ReplyDeleteMay I have permission to post the poem on my blog? I will provide a link back to your blog too.
Kylie :-)