Shoved way back in the drawer
Little treasure filled with lore
No one asks, “Why is it there?”
A funny token, a useless ware.

Sometimes I take it out
My little icon so devout
No one sees its beauty but I
A memory of a time gone by

Seems so lonely Just sitting on the table
With that torn and tattered faded label
A worthless piece of glass
And yet it holds my past

It’s all that is left since we said our good-byes
I hold the bottle and a million tears fill my eyes
The bottle part empty like my heart
Has aged since we’ve been apart
 

The contents have lost their glory
But the bottle still can tell the story
Of a time when we were young
And the two of us were one

The bottle has no special beauty you see
And yet is holds all the essence that is me
Sometimes it seems more precious than gold
This glass that brings me comfort now I’m old

Only glass part of what used to be
Holding the reality of you and me
It sometimes opens the door
With remains of once before

When you and I were young
And life had just begun
When love was bright and new
And the world was full of fun

It holds a memory down deep inside
Hidden in the depths of foolish pride
A time when I was filled with deep despair
Something only the bottle and I can share
 
 

A small glass bottle yellow with age
A long lost story like a bookless page
Its’ smooth surface stark and cold
Allows my memories to unfold
 

I still have the perfume that you gave me
After so many years it’s very plain to see
No other treasure can ever take its place
A memory in a bottle time cannot erase
Copyrite@2000
Tyshee
Music by Harry Todd
 Email Tyshee
Return to the Dacha