Loose change, filled to the brim of a small mason jar,
That is saved for a rainy day, she says.
Old polaroids with the dates written neatly on the back corner,
That have corners bent and folded in.
The red pen with a dried out tip and no more ink,
That I threw in the drawer last week.
The missing piece to the board game,
That hasn’t been played together in a while.
A rusty old screw,
That came from the dining chair.
Her gold bracelet,
The flashlight with beams of dark light,
That was used when the power went out.
That no longer fits on her tiny wrists.
The family photo we took last summer,
That has his face scribbled out.
Extra batteries,
That never fit to anything because they weren’t AA.
The Broken chain, from him,
That was given as a gift.
The pink collar,
That still has tufts of grey fur.
The missing puzzle piece,
That never got complete.
The glossy black button,
That broke off her favorite silky coat.
The black sharpie,
That dried and ran out of ink.
Her leather wallet,
That still has her ID.
The purple spaceship magnet,
That broke and won't stick on the fridge anymore.
The childish drawings of scribbles and smiling suns I gave her,
That has no more meaning.
The old matches,
That we used to light her favorite candle, until she got bored of the vanilla smell.
Her wedding ring,
That promised love forever.
But she doesn’t wear it anymore.