It sat on the dresser a small little bauble on a chain dangling slightly out of the dish it sat in. He sat and starred at it wistfully thinking of how things use to be.
She woke to snow again. She always does. Every morning. Every day. So once again she’d get up and go for a walk. Once around the house then back inside. You can only go so far. Until the shake shake shake again.
She woke to snow again. It’s always snowing. Every morning. Every day. So she’ll go for a walk again. Out the front door. Once around the yard and back inside. Waiting for the shake, shake, shake again. And the snow.
I think of small porcelain jewelry box type things. The small round ones with the gold hinges, usually, that might hold a few rings, but not quite big enough for a bracelet. Maybe with a small porcelain animal inside. Something that might be junk to someone else, but is precious to the person saving it, keeping it, keeping it safe.
I think of small porcelain jewelry box type things. The small round ones with the gold hinges, usually, that might hold a few rings, but not quite big enough for a bracelet. Maybe with a small porcelain animal inside. Something that might be junk to someone else, but is precious to the person saving it, keeping it, keeping it safe.
All of her keepsakes were contained in a worn cardboard box in the attic. No one knew what was in that box until after her death the previous year, and no one was prepared to know either.
He was working on simplying his life. He had too many possessions and they seemed to weigh him down whenever he moved. But as he went through his things, he found he couldn’t throw out these keepsakes. He picked up the various knick knacks and thought about the time he bought it, or received as a gift.
It sat on the dresser a small little bauble on a chain dangling slightly out of the dish it sat in. He sat and starred at it wistfully thinking of how things use to be.
She woke to snow again. She always does. Every morning. Every day. So once again she’d get up and go for a walk. Once around the house then back inside. You can only go so far. Until the shake shake shake again.
She woke to snow again. It’s always snowing. Every morning. Every day. So she’ll go for a walk again. Out the front door. Once around the yard and back inside. Waiting for the shake, shake, shake again. And the snow.
Keepsake
Oh this one’s tough for me.
I think of small porcelain jewelry box type things. The small round ones with the gold hinges, usually, that might hold a few rings, but not quite big enough for a bracelet. Maybe with a small porcelain animal inside. Something that might be junk to someone else, but is precious to the person saving it, keeping it, keeping it safe.
Maybe these should be called “Keepsafes.” :)
Keepsake
Oh this one’s tough for me.
I think of small porcelain jewelry box type things. The small round ones with the gold hinges, usually, that might hold a few rings, but not quite big enough for a bracelet. Maybe with a small porcelain animal inside. Something that might be junk to someone else, but is precious to the person saving it, keeping it, keeping it safe.
Maybe these should be called “Keepsafes.Q” :)
All of her keepsakes were contained in a worn cardboard box in the attic. No one knew what was in that box until after her death the previous year, and no one was prepared to know either.
He was working on simplying his life. He had too many possessions and they seemed to weigh him down whenever he moved. But as he went through his things, he found he couldn’t throw out these keepsakes. He picked up the various knick knacks and thought about the time he bought it, or received as a gift.