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POEM OF THE DAY; Things in the bottom drawer.

There are bits of string in a silver tin, a photograph or two, strands of hair tied with loving care, one little baby shoe. A battered toy that my baby boy, play's with no more, I keep all of these precious memories, with love in the bottom drawer.

There is his baby suit which in he looked so cute, a small elastic band, that held his birth note, on which nurses wrote, his name for his tiny hand.

A broken crayon of blue, for a picture he drew of me which I'll always adore, I've kept everything, that reminds me of him, safe in the bottom drawer.

There is his finger print on cotton lint, the story book he read, a toy balloon that burst too soon, when he bounced it off his head. Scraps of paper and pen, he scribbled on now and then, his socks with holes galore. He's always here forever near, when I look in the bottom drawer.

When I look at all these treasures, I cry happy tears, when I think of how I have kept them all these many years. He's now grown up so handsome, still in my eyes he's my little boy, and when I open up the bottom drawer, it fills my heart with joy.

PHILIP SWALLOW, Gosforth queue can be in place more often than not at busy times. Naturally, most vehicles have their engines running.

Still, Forbes will be able to charge them for the privilege of being forced to park dangerously on a busy road served by two bus routes.

MALCOLM WHITE

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Publication:Evening Chronicle (Newcastle, England)
Date:Mar 6, 2019
Words:264
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