“Come here” my friend called for me
\npointing towards a box, covered with dirt
\nDated 50 years ago, the box was
\nStill looked strong, not decomposed<\/p>\n
We pulled the box out, it was heavy
\n“Does this contain rocks?” my friend asked me
\n“I hope not” I replied
\nThe box was really heavy<\/p>\n
We opened the box, it was unlocked
\nInside were things that I couldn’t recognize
\nI never saw them in real life
\nExcept for in pictures of history<\/p>\n
There was an envelope inside
\ndated 50 years ago
\nit addressed to no one in particular
\nand from a Tommy boy<\/p>\n
There was a picture, black and white
\n“Before going off to war” it read behind
\n“That is Tommy Boy” I told my friend
\n“Maybe 50 years ago, before the war”<\/p>\n
A bullet, engraved with Tommy’s name
\nA medal of honor, awarded to him
\nLetters he wrote to a girl he liked
\nand a letter he wrote to us, the box openers<\/p>\n
I opened the envelope and unfolded the paper
\n“Tommy boy to the future” it opened
\n“Tommy boy to the future” it started off the letter
\nMy respect for this person went up immediately<\/p>\n
“Time is the great undoer, children” it read
\nEven those who defeated Hitler can’t defeat it
\n“Time kills even the best of us”
\n“Make the best of this life”<\/p>\n
“This box contains recordings of my life”
\n“Years and years spent in the war
\nto spend just days with the one I loved”
\n“May that not be your fate”<\/p>\n
“Each day I spent in war, I thought of her
\nHer face, her words, her memories consumed me
\nFind someone like that in your life
\nTo be entirely consumed with”<\/p>\n
“Time is the great undoer, my children”
\n“I do not remember all the worries I had as a kid
\nI only remember the memories I made
\nand the fun I had making those”<\/p>\n
“You get only one life
\nLive a life full of love, joy, and wonder
\nWhat’s the point in a life that’s not?
\nWe get only one life to live, eh?”<\/p>\n
My afternoon became packed now
\nUnpacking can wait, these stories needed attention
\nI shall give them what they seek
\nFor I do not know the adventure I’m going to go on<\/p>\n
–Surya T<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" “Come here” my friend called for me pointing towards a box, covered with dirt Dated 50 years ago, the box was Still looked strong, not decomposed We pulled the box out, it was heavy “Does this contain rocks?” my friend asked me “I hope not”…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3791,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-91119","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/91119","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3791"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=91119"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/91119\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":92392,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/91119\/revisions\/92392"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=91119"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=91119"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=91119"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}