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Dusty key still fits the wooden tray
Yellowed receipt from a rainy day
Pressed petal falls out of a letter
Worn-out seal that once held them better
Blue ink faded on a folded line
Old sewing machine stops at half past nine
Photo strip curled at the edge of the drawer
I snap the lid shut and ask for no more
Old stories in a box on the top shelf
Old stories tied with a string by itself
I let them sit quiet, I let them stay
I keep my two hands busy every day
Old stories in a box on the top shelf
Old stories tied with a string by itself
The dust is not a ghost, it's just old grace
I smile at the lid and walk from the place
Blue ink faded on a folded line
Old sewing machine stops at half past nine
Photo strip curled at the edge of the drawer
I snap the lid shut and ask for no more
Old stories in a box on the top shelf
Old stories tied with a string by itself
I let them sit quiet, I let them stay
I keep my two hands busy every day
Old stories in a box on the top shelf
Old stories tied with a string by itself
The dust is not a ghost, it's just old grace
I smile at the lid and walk from the place
