KEEPSAKE

KEEPSAKE
(FOR KYLE)

I long to be your keepsake,
in the basement of your soul,

The clutter in your kitchen,
the winding in your road.

The clipping you can’t throw away,
the headline that proclaims,

All the stones we’ve gathered,
the sand that bears our name.

I long to be your keepsake,
the scrapbook musty worn,

The childhood action hero
whose clothes are frayed and torn.

The hope chest in your attic
to the brim and overflowing,

The locket of all loves gone by,
the sweet persistent knowing.

I long to be your keepsake,
your knight upon a stallion.

Your ribbon from a county fair,
your shining gold medallion.

The Wonder Woman comic books
within your chest of drawers,

The Debbie Harry poster you’ve
worshiped and adored.

I long to be your keepsake,
the photo in your frame.

The cobwebs’ sacred memory
of love’s eternal flame.

I long to hold you late at night
when the Sandman sprinkles dust.

To hear the beating of your heart,
to sleep and dream of us.

-BRUCE POTTS
COPYRIGHT 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED