My Little Memory Notebook

My Little Memory Notebook

I have a little notebook,
Where I jot my memories down,
Of things that happened long ago,
Or things I’ve seen in town.

And sometimes when I read it,
My thoughts go back in time,
To days when life was gentler,
And memories were mine.

There was no need to hurry,
No rushing to and fro,
The days went by so gently,
And time seemed very slow.

I remember Mother’s silver hair,
And the lovely cakes she’d bake,
There was always a chair at the table,
And fresh scones upon a plate.

I remember Grandma rocking,
So peacefully in her chair,
The little things she used to say,
And the love she had to spare.

My little notebook holds so much,
Of people everywhere,
And sometimes when I read it,
I shed a silent tear.

For I wish that those I’ve written of,
Were sitting with me here,
That I could hear their voices,
And hold them once more near.

But sadly, some have passed away,
And others have gone astray,
Yet when I turn those pages,
They never seem far away.

So, if you keep a notebook,
Then guard it all your life,
For memories are precious things,
Through happiness and strife.

One day, you may reread it,
And tears begin to fall,
As things you thought you’d forgotten,
Come gently back to call.

I’ve kept these words for many years,
They’re like a book of prayer,
For when I think of Grandma,
I can almost see her there.

I hear the things she used to say,
Remember what she’d do,
And for a little moment,
Those distant days feel new.

But memories aren’t always kind,
Some bring a little pain,
They’re tucked away inside my head,
And sometimes come again.

When I am feeling lonely,
The sad ones come to light,
And thoughts I thought were buried,
Return in the quiet night.

Yet sometimes when I’m happy,
Remembering days gone by,
A lovely little memory,
Will bring tears to my eyes.

For people come and people go,
Some leave, and some have died,
But all the love they gave us,
Is something time can’t hide.

And though my little notebook,
Is only in my mind,
Its pages hold a lifetime,
Of the people left behind.

So, on a cosy winter’s day,
When skies are cold and grey,
I’ll open up those memories,
And let them have their say.

For though the years have taken,
So many far from me,
They live within the pages,
Of my book of memory.

And when I close that notebook,
One thing will still be true,
The people we hold within our hearts,
Stay with us our whole lives through.