As a child, I
left notes to future me
strewn about, recalling
a version of myself
that left quietly in the night.

We used to make time capsules
and fill them with trinkets we swore
we’d want to remember someday.

Funny how that changes
from reminding you of your
most prized possession
to even just the smell
of dew at the public park
you fell in love at
nearly a decade ago.

My hands, reaching out
passenger side window
I wish I could’ve bottled
the dew on my hands
and kept that freedom
in a jar
to remind me of even
the smallest of memories.

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