The Scrapbook

Rummaging through forgotten boxes,
Up in the dreary attic.
A faded, unfinished scrapbook
was caught by lonely eyes.

Eager hands reached down to touch it,
An anxious heart was beating fast.
For inside those moth-eaten pages
Lay dusty pictures of a carefree past

As trembling fingers slowly traced,
the worn-out stationery filled with tales.
Familiar lines reached quivering lips,
"Friends for keeps, bestfriends for life"

As each brittle page is turned,
Memories are re-lived, deep feelings return.
A drowning emotion--nostalgia
Of a past when troubles were unknown.

Then on one page, everything just stops.
No more flowery edges, no more magazine cuts.
now on the lonely page, are splattered, discolored dots,
They roll down your cheeks, the tears start to fall.

Your heart starts to ache as the book is put down.
Aching for that time of innocence and bliss.
Wanting to go back, back before time seized us.
Back to the time before we discovered growing up.