Matchbook

Poem

Your matchbook,

             there on the ledge

             since last season.

I cannot stand to see it,

              it is something of yours

and I'll not touch it.

              Some of these things,

they belong(ed) to you

      and I fear to think of you

      not with me now.

I'm sure to think of you

if i touch your stuff.

                             dust covers most of the room.