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Inside a rusty and battered box,
One could find a treasure rare
Inside as tattered hinges unfolds,
One would expect to find a hoard of gold.
Inside an wrecked abandoned house and land
One could find forgotten treasures of a man
From pictures, objects and books hold secrets of a man
One could imagine stories never told.
Inside a locket, perhaps of gold, maybe silver
A long loved dear one, perhaps a son or soldier,
Has long since died and disappeared, and since been told
A mother or wife who would, him again, never hold.
Perhaps a person, of unknown fame,
Hides their secrets and bears needless shame,
Because some couldn’t look pass the exterior clothed,
To search the treasures that the heart does behold.