Note: I saw a poetry prompt to write from the perspective of a treasured object — this is what came to mind.
I watch her forget it, forget me
She rubs my surface with her fingertip
Then drinks too much whiskey on a Tuesday
I watch her remember
Waters, walks, small doses of TV
She doesn’t know harmony
But she tries
I’ve lived generations
Hand to hand
Worried fingers rubbed my etchings smooth
Whispered secrets weathered me
I have stories I cannot tell
But I make my presence known
A little weight
For a big lesson: moderation
I am cradled against her daughter’s head
With the smell of baby shampoo
And the sound of camp songs turned into lullabies each night
There’s no whiskey on Tuesdays anymore
For once not another extreme
But a new settling
I make my presence known
I watch her remember
With Love,
Natalie