All the treasures of a lifetime, are stored in Grandma's room-
Bracelets, rings, secret things, and bottles of sweet perfume,
Gay valentines, old letters, rare coins, and beaded bags,
Velvet kittens, stuffed with sawdust, fancy pillows, stuffed with rags,
An open-Bible on the table, near her wicker rocking chair-
Four-leaf clovers tucked inside it, and a lock of Mama's hair,
A recipe for cinnamon-buns, a vase, with a tiny crack,
A basket of buttons, needles, pins, and a rusty, carpet tack, A picture of me, in a little gold frame, on a shelf, above her bed-
The little spectacles, that slid down her nose, as stories to me, she read.
In a drawer, I find the beautiful dress, she wore on her wedding day-
Beneath it, wrapped in tissue, is a wax-preserved bouquet.
On a board in her closet, are slippers, paired neatly, side by side-
One pair of high-top buttoned shoes, kept polished, worn with pride.
Tiny fingerprints and roses, adorn one papered wall,
On the dresser, sits her china clock "I Love It--Best Of All." Now--as I choose my keepsake, from all her bric-a-brac,
I look around this room once more--fond memories, flashing back.
This room is filled with many things, such as beads and bits of lace-
Yet; this room seems very empty, without her smiling face.
I stroke the paper roses, wet my fingertips with tears-
I imprint them near the smaller ones, she cherished, through the years.
I remember childhood visits, as I close and lock the door-
to the Countless Little Treasures, that Grandma held in store.