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