Close

Concealed behind the deep navy blue cover

And the glistening gold information

Are memories. 

 

They begin with a grainy, laminated photo

Then a signature here

And a birth date there. 

 

I continue on

By slowly turning a few textured orange pages

To find my first stamp.

 

Memories begin to flash flood in my mind

Like a river bursting over its banks

Too much and too fast.

 

I come across my next stamp

And yet again

I am drowning in memories.

 

I overcome the sheer amount

Starting to turn more pages

I find more stamps.

 

This time though

I can deal with the overflow

I pick out one of my favourite memories.

 

In my mind

I’m on an aeroplane

About to land after a seven hour flight.

 

Laughing loudly with my sister and mum

I get up to stretch

And gaze around the cabin.

 

My excited and blissful eyes

Fall upon an extremely red faced man

Staring furiously right back at me.

 

I quickly plant myself

Back in my lumpy chair

Attempting to get away from the man’s burning stare.

 

A minute or two passes

Expecting the man to be looking somewhat normal

My stiff legs stand me back up to turn around.

 

I find him unchanged

Still his eyes burn into me

I quickly slide back into my chair avoiding confrontation.

 

This memory

Acting like a trigger

Sets of a spur of more memories.

 

Attempting to navigate through the great amount

I come across another interesting memory

This time not involving an angry man but an unfamiliar country.

 

I’m lost

In a country

That speaks a foreign language.

 

Trying to get back to my hotel

I rush through dark dirty alleys

And up steep stairwells.

 

I come across a

Very sympathetic stranger

Who points me in the right direction.

 

As I start planning out in my mind

What I should’ve done differently

The bright neon lights of my hotel come into view. 

 

I begin to think about this memory I’ve acquired

And how I wouldn’t have had it

Without my petite blue book.

 

Holding this object

Feather light in my hand

I realise the power it holds.

 

To bring me to tears

To bring me to joy

To bring me everything in a pocket-sized rectangle.

Key To My World


By Hannah

View more poems from Davidson High School (NSW) - Cabinet of Lost and Found 2010