Strangers in the Box

Come, look with me inside this drawer In this box I’ve often seen At the pictures black and white Faces proud, still and serene

I wish I knew the people These strangers in the box Their names and all their memories Are lost among the socks

I wonder what their lives were like How did they spend their days? What about their special times? I’ll never know their ways

If only someone had taken time To tell who, what and when Those faces of my heritage Would come to life again

Could this become the fate Of the pictures we take today? The faces and the memories Someday to be tossed away

Make time to save your pictures Seize the opportunity when it knocks Or someday you and yours could be The strangers in the box!

Each week as I enjoy the Bugle I think what a shame we don’t know who many of these people are which you print from your archives. This poem was given to me some years ago, which may be a reminder for us to start now to put names on our old photos. It’s our family history.