Old Things

We get the greatest comfort
When we wear the oldest shoe
We love old songs better
Than we'll ever love the new
The old books seem more dear to us
The old trees give us more shade
And all of us have one old gift
We'd never sell or trade...
Yes, there's mellow sweetness
In a good thing growing old
Whether it's a trinket
Or a locket made of gold...
And memories of you today
Are pleasant to recall
For old friendships--like old treasures
Are the best ones--after all.