for putting in.
Rarely
taking out.
Three corroded pennies.
One pale yellow
Tupperware bottle cap.
One hair comb.
Strands
stuck in teeth.
One black and white
cracking
turned grays
dime store photostrip.
Sachet
absent scent.
Seven holy cards.
Lipstick bottom
almost empty
vibrant
red.
Tumbled
left behinds.
Bits
of
her.
Written for day 3 of my poetry mentor’s March 21 Day Challenge online poetry class. We are to write a poem of short lines with many stanzas.
lillian the home poet 
Lol. I know that drawer.
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I call mine a junk drawer. But my mother’s, this was a special one.
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Oh, Lillian. Were you with me when I cleaned out my dear mother’s drawers…holy cards and all. This one got to me!
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I cleaned out my mother’s apartment in 1998. I’ll remember always her “treasures” that I found.
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Oh, and the scentless sachets. Kind of spooky how close it was.
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…and I didn’t mention the soft oblong silk envelope container that held her handkerchiefs, which she hadn’t used in many years. She also had a similar pouch with cloth gloves, white, buttercup yellow.
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Doubly spooky. Yes, some lovely calfskin gloves. It was hard to let go of things. And everything she had smelled like Tea Rose or Jean Patou’s Joy. I brought a small dresser back here that she used for all her underwear, slips etc. Every now and again I catch the scent of roses. Geez.
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Ah we are kindred spirits indeed❤
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Fabulous! 🌹🌹🌹
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Thank you!
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