How well I remember my childhood days
And the times when I was allowed
To play with the “button box” ~
It made me feel so proud.

Hundreds of buttons were kept inside
And buckles from shoes I had worn.
All sorts of colours and shades
And snippets of fabrics torn.

Tiny baby buttons from a jacket
Worn from the very start
Of a life that was cherished,
And whose memory was kept in heart.

Buttons from tiny leather shoes
Fashioned in palest blue.
Much much larger buttons~
Every shade and every hue.

Buttons from a Sailor Uniform
All metal and shining bright.
Buttons from my Grandfather’s shirt,
Very small and very white.

Leather buttons from a jacket
Which had been hand knitted.
Buttons taken from some dresses
When they no longer fitted.

More than buttons in a box
These are memories and treasures fine,
And I was fortunate indeed
That these treasures became mine.

I have the family button box
And my own children have played
With the very same buttons,
And I am glad the memory has stayed.

They have been a maths lesson
In sorting, counting and sizing,
And I knew that here was a treasure
That I should indeed be prizing.

There is a familiar and musty smell
Of age and metal and more.
Here is a lifetime of memories
And it’s good to peep through the door.

To see our lives by the buttons we wore
When we were younger and much more aware.
When we saw life as an endless day
And we had hardly a single care.

To see the clothes and remember
The times and places we knew,
To look and to see the “Button Box”
As a valued friend so true.

© Linda J. Vaughan

January 29th. 2002

The Pages of Avalon


Janet Kruskamp, Artist
Luvdalot Graphics & Design
©Luvdalot Graphics & Design, 2003-2005