“Its loveliness increases”

It is a souvenir. Made from lack
Of artistic flare, meant for serving
Soups and such. An afternoon of festivity.
And to make up for my lack of creativity
I wrote on the inside when I was done –
“Ask for more!” Everyone thought that was fun.
Sometime later it broke, as these things do.
Glued together, it held the minutiae of our lives
Not much good any more for serving soup,
It managed to serve as a keeper of lost erasers,
Pencil stubs, cracked sharpeners, rubber bands
Retied into serviceable loops, bits of broken
Things. Today I rescued perfectly dried roses
Stiffened on their stems. I repotted them in token
Of all the things waiting to be renewed that hands
Cannot remake. A keepsake that forecloses
The possibility of newness, a thing of fleeting
Beauty. Kept for the sake of keeping.

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