Safekeeping

Letters bound with ribbon
red as the lipstick I wore then;
theatre show programmes,
photographs faded with age;
memories float to the surface
like dynamited fish.

A single red rose, now papery and dried,
lies in a chocolate box.
Black bin bags lean together destined for charity,
all of your clothes and shoes now given up.
There's a dark granite stone,
with lines of dates and times, silent, alone.