Keepsake

I sit and hold this precious token
With my heart completely broken.
But I just can’t put away
The remnant of a better day.

So many say I should move on.
Forget about the one who’s gone.
But they don’t know just what I had.
I’m blessed that I can be this sad.

For even still, my memories
Are worth the price of times like these,
And when I’m lost in how things were
At least I feel a part of her.

The laughter was the best of all.
There was so much when I would call,
And to have known that happiness
Can more than compensate for this.

I was the luckiest of men-
And can’t be sure I won’t again,
If she remembers time with me
Win back the love that’s meant to be.

So though I sleep in sorrow’s shroud,
I feel I’ve earned it- I’m allowed
To wistfully recall her voice-
Live missing her, it is my choice.

John H. Bidwell