What Shall I Leave You

What shall I leave you when I leave you a cluster of stars clutched against my chest drawers full of lavender or my Monet broach? What shall I leave you when I leave that special card that has your signature and name or the sound of my voice in the hallways of time What shall I leave at the foot of memory hill a sprig of thyme from my garden so sublime or a carved out sun, inside your wishing well What shall I leave at the foot of memory hill a few forget-me-nots perhaps a Mystic Rose? What shall I leave behind for your sweet pick, perhaps a waxen white, untainted candle wick?