A metal box, a silent space,
Where secrets hide and dreams take place.
A haven for the heart's own things,
The trinkets, notes, and tiny wings.
It holds the books, the crumpled art,
A diary with a beating heart.
The photo tucked, the lucky charm,
Against the world, a safe from harm.
The clang of the door, a metal song,
As memories within are locked along.
From day to day, it stands so still,
A testament to hopes and skill.
But when the bell rings, loud and clear,
It's time to open, shed a tear.
For in that space, so small and tight,
A piece of youth takes flight.