My Stitched With Memories Button

It sits there in its box holding all the memories in
About to burst and let them all come flooding out
As rough as musty old carpet
With airy material surrounding it
Guarding it like a moat
Like scraping your finger nails down a chalkboard
Round and round the metal ring
Strands of stiches woven through the light and dark brown material

Was worn to balls and parties
Danced and played in
For everlasting hours
And then worn home to bed
If I lost this precious possession I would cry
Until I had run out of tears to cry
This button is as precious as gold
This was my grandmothers when she was young
And now it has been passed down to me
This is my button of memories
It is my memory maker