Amongst The Hours

When all the days are numbered,

All the words spoken,

When all the laughter spilled 

And all the tears been shed,

Then surely we will know the things of value,

That were left discarded 

Upon roads in the lands once traveled,

In the silence that remains gather them

For it is the book left open upon the shelf,

The treasured cup amongst the ordinary,

A photo worn with loving glances,

A lingering scent within a bottle

That ties the years together, 

So as the hours pass creating all our years

Then shall we  recognise the treasures 

Once so easily discarded.