Keepsakes

His jazz collection fills the spare bedroom Music man, you see, was his nom de plume Our wedding album rests on the nightstand A keepsake for my viewing on demand The tarnished silver comb that stroked his hair Lays on the dresser beside his easy chair The carnation he wore on our wedding day A keepsake preserved in a glass display The love notes he sent are bound in a box I read them again when life deals hard knocks His old Volvo still sits in the driveway In it he proposed to his fiancé I’ve clung to these treasures, lived in the past Keepsakes from four years that went by too fast Comfort they bring as he watches from above John, my husband, the only man I’ve loved