Relics
I struck the flint against the steel
sending sparks showering over
the tinder I’d arranged in the pit
topped with the single bit of char cloth
from the tin of my fire starting kit
Not many know how to do that these days
The weight of what I was about to do
demanded the old ways
Breathing life into the flames I fed them
until they crackled into a conflagration
Beside me sat the box I’d hidden away
in the corner of the shelf in my closet
under piles of sheets and pillow cases
Within it stored what he’d worn
that arid August day we’d met
like trinkets from a time machine
The black T-shirt with the guitars
The red plaid flannel over it
After almost a quarter of a century
they hadn’t faded or degraded
His scent soaked into them discernable
The smell of his cologne still clinging
Transporting me back to the moment
I’d first seen his face, heard his voice
felt his touch
I held them in my hands feeling the fibers
replaying memories like a movie
of that single year
They were all that was left
of the me that had been
happy, hopeful and free
Like the last remaining relic
of a civilization that has ceased to be
Silently I placed them back in the box
Someday they’ll mean nothing to me
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