His hands grew weathered as he plucked weeds from beside the road
When he'd gathered all he wanted, he then slowly wandered home
He dug into his closet and then found an old shoe box
Placed the weeds inside, and closed it up with several locks
Stuck a strip of masking tape nicely across the lid
Labeled it in black
"memories of what we did"

When he had finished with the label, he walked outside to see
Where he could bury the box below the old, oak tree
He found the spot he wanted, and then stuck his shovel in
Placed the box right in the dirt, and then started to grin
He packed some dirt over the box, and lit a cigarette
Then cried into his sleeve and said
"I'll still never forget"