The Things We Leave Behind

I found an old shirt in a dusty drawer,

still holding the scent of a time before.

Threads worn thin by hands now gone,

yet memories stitched where they belong.

I traced the collar, soft and frayed,

like echoes of words we never said.

A silent relic, folded neat,

whispering love that time won’t cheat.

I found a letter, torn at the seam,

ink now faded but carved in dreams.

“I miss you,” it read in hurried scrawl,

a love once held, now barely recalled.

How fragile are the things we keep—

a sweater, a book, a promise deep.

Not in gold, nor jewels so bright,

but in old torn pages, bathed in light.

We chase forever, but in the end,

it’s laughter, touch, the voice of a friend.

Not things, nor wealth, nor fleeting pride,

just love, still waiting, side by side.

Did this touch your heart? Let me know if you’d like another! 😊