Gifts and Mementos

At this window,
I stand in a tableau
of past relationships,
mementos of learning,
bit by bit,
how to love,
and be loved.

This cat beside me
is a token of my marriage,
my adopted second son;
at first unwanted,
he has grown in my heart
to be part of my family,
a trusted companion.

Beside him sits an instrument,
a gift of music
that recalls the warmer moments
of a tumultuous romance,
many years past,
its bell tones recalling
the harmony and understanding
we were able to share,
within brief islands
of calm.

Beneath them is a table,
left, as she moved on
toward a new life
(and away from our entanglement),
by a loving friend.

Above us,
a set of delicate chimes
tinkle gently,
singing the spirit
of another beloved one,
now gone from this world;
its soft melodies,
like drifting smoke,
are my inheritance,
my remembrance.

Each of these
is another token of love
tried, failed, or fading
with time.

Standing here,
amidst these reminders,
I see how much reaching for love
has shaped my life,
and how, with its grace,
I will continue to learn
how to give it,
and how to receive.