Treasures in the Dust

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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