I had a wicker basket
with a dainty little handle,
and lining made of checkered cloth
the color of my cheeks.
I filled my wicker basket up
with secrets and with treasures;
yes, I filled my basket (to the top!)
with minutes, days, and weeks.

I kept those precious moments
for as long as I could hold them.
I kept them for emergencies,
or for a rainy day.
I clutched my pretty basket-
never peeking at its contents-
for I felt much better knowing
they were safely tucked away.

Oh, I kept those cherished moments
for as long as I could hold them,
but soon they grew too heavy,
and my fingers grew so sore!
So, I set my wicker basket down
amid the leaves and flowers;
yes, I set my treasured basket there
upon my bedroom floor.

And I blinked my eyes so slightly that
the moon would hardly notice.
Still, I blinked my eyes and realized that
my hands were much too late.
As I grabbed my little basket,
(with the checkered cotton lining)
all the minutes I’d collected there
went soaring toward my fate.