We all have one.   A dented coffee can buried in the backyard.  A cardboard shoe box tucked under the bed. A faded cigar box, the edges worn and soft with age and use.   A wooden trunk hiding in a corner in the attic. Dad's footlocker in the garage or Mom's hatbox on the closet shelf. 
Our treasure boxes are tied to our hearts and our individual history.  They hold a tangible link to our most precious memories.  A ticket stub, a button, a key, an unusual stone, a feather, a perfect seashell or maybe an old photo, faded and curling at the edges - the small things that make up our lives and bring richness into our everyday existence.  An amulet that whisks the owner right back to a moment in time, a place that lives inside.  A story begging to be shared.  A writer's tale.

582 New Haven Rd SE
Floyd, VA 24091


 ©2009 TreasureBoxTales.
All Rights Reserved.

email me

If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!
by Shel Silverstein,
Where the Sidewalk Ends