Old Souvenirs
On my nightstand there’s a photograph
of a woman just eighteen
As she stares back at me
Her eyes they shine so familiar
In a shoebox there’s a letter
she writes of her day to day
As I canvas across each page
I’m grateful that I have her name
Should I forget all my distant memories
Like the thrill of first love, or when it walked away from me
Or would I regret letting go of what I used to be
These old souvenirs remind me
In the back of my jewelry box
is the necklace she left to me
And as I put it on, oh the memories
Come flooding back to me
Should I forget all my distant memories
Like the thrill of first love, or when it walked away from me
Or would I regret letting go of what I used to be
These old souvenirs remind me
I hope she knows….
© 2010 Annie Fitzgerald (BMI) & John Lynn
