When I take a peek in the scrapbook of my life
The memories fill my old and weary heart
I’ll think of all the fun things I have done
And appreciate it like a work of art

I recollect the games of ancient times
The masker for my beauty sleep
The empty elegant perfume bottles
The picnic basket that I still keep

The green tent reminds me of a holiday
With orange sun, blue see and yellow sand
Or the purple wig for the yearly carnival
At the festival where I gave a helping hand

Neatly folded I kept a piece of fabric
From the first dress that I made
It was a leftover of my bedroom curtain
Elegantly cut out from the heavy brocade

And tucked in the corner of a paper box
I find a ticket of the first movie we saw
And as strange as it might sound
An empty popcorn box and a shared straw

I open up a worn and torn address book
And I can see almost every face
I know that now they are old like me
But there are only a few that I misplace

I wonder if they have the same collections
In pictures frames and boxes, just like mine
And take a sneaky peek now and then
To ensure that everything still is fine

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