On a dusty shelf sits
A little worn chest
All tarnished and stained
Full of what I love best

It's hinges are loose
It is ugly and old
But precious to me
Is the treasure it holds

I sweep off the cobwebs
And open the lid
The tears start to fall
As I face what I've hid

A small faded blanket,
Smooth wooden blocks,
And most cherished of all,
Some little white socks

They are incredibly tiny
With frail white lace trim
Full of memories, of joy,
And a white room, very dim

Little hands, little feet,
And a sweet little face
The vibrant young life,
Death came to replace

I stroke the soft fabric
With rough, calloused hands,
Pondering the deep sorrows
Only a mother understands

Peace slowly enters my soul
Floods my heart, and then,
I know for a surety
I will see her again

I sit in quiet thought
As my eyes overflow
And I thank my great Lord
For what he did long ago

I then gather my treasures
And close the dear box
Full of hope, and of love,
and of little white socks