Memories, I keep them all
Some I hang upon my wall
A few are floating in the air
Most mornings you can see them there
Some I keep in furtive looks
Others live within my books
So many perch upon that shelf
I sometimes think I’m there myself
One is buried down so deep
I know it only in my sleep
In dreams it sits inside a box
Build of wood, with sturdy locks
On the lid, one word: “regret”
What is in there? I forget.

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