The Memory Machine

Have you ever wondered where time has gone,
When it’s used up by you and by me?

Well, it travels through space to a wonderful place,
A place that you simply can’t see.

Here it feeds through equipment that’s quite long and quite lean,
A recycling contraption called The Memory Machine.

It has gadgets and gizmos and movements quite slick,
With gears that go grinding, nuts and bolts that go click.

There’s an opening on top where times past enter in,
And beneath that a chamber with mirrors that spin.

No one knows just exactly what happens in there
Not how, when or why, not who, what, or where.

But, when time passes on, it gains color and sound
As it flows into pipes that are long, thin, and round.

These pipes are so long that they twist and they bend
On and on for a mile, maybe two, maybe ten.

It’s uncertain how far time must travel before
It turns into stories and legends and lore.

But one thing is certain—on this you can count—
It’ll turn up in albums with photos to mount…

In scrapbooks and poems and tales to be told.
In history lessons true, brave, and bold.

Though you can’t make time stop and you can’t make time stay,
You can keep it stored up for a new dawning day.

You can use time all over again and again.
You can share it with family or with a friend.

It will enter your thoughts, your ideas, and dreams
All because of The remarkable Memory Machine!

By Coralie Cederna Johnson