My drawers are a reluctant mess
So much I do admit,
Filled as they are with numerous objects,
Old pens and magic tricks.
In the corner is a music case,
Pocket-heavy and tightly packed,
Lightly my fingers brush it
Slowly they draw back.
Here is a piece of rock, smoothed
By ancient waters, now gone dry,
Bequeathed to me, in a friendship’s memory
That has since passed me by.
There is that notebook! Once dear, now forlorn,
Faded, yellowed, stained it’s jacket,
Guarding once crisp pages, white as snow,
Notes a bit more faded, than when I first had it.
At the bottom, among the papers
Is the joke book my best friend gifted me,
When I’d hurt my knee and could not walk;
The ghosts of those careful hands, I feel but cannot see.
Beside it, the song that I once wrote
To catch from him a second glance;
He has since perambulated to his abode,
I, on my path, continue to advance.
Here is a piece of waxing paper,
My favorite bob and pin,
That toy car with the flaming art,
A stack of coins in a tin.
I’ve found my last new coloring pencil,
A picture of my cat,
I thought I’d lost that string of beads,
‘Midst some old newspaper stack!
How can I let these treasures go?
These pieces of my heart?
They are all the keepers of their memories
From dust to dust they will remain; For I cannot bear to part.
© Ruth P. – 2016
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