I am from a stack of books
worn with time and use
filled with forgotten bookmarks
and memories that were never far from reality
I am from a red ring
constantly round the finger
of a teenager trying to get by
in the world which she came
I am from a wooden box
filled with sketches and stories
some old, some new
all represent times of the past
I am from an old deck of cards
held together with a hair tie
a reminder of a warm grandmother
Who passed away and left only perfect memories behind
