In a fleeting glance it catches your eye and you walk over toward it…
Resting quietly on the wooden shelf, it waits.
A catalyst of light tucked away in a dusty corner.

Its pull draws you near.

Running your fingertips gently over it a sudden wave envelops you,
There is a laugh… a smell… a touch.
A quiet moment with a sense of what once was.

Its weight begins to multiply.

Gentleness sweeps over you as you roll it through your hands,
Scored by a dusty fingerprint, a faded stain.
A striking impression of its former self.

Its presence a cherished escape.

A relic of the past it is placed deliberately, carefully back on the shelf…
There it sits, waiting.
Out of harms way but always within arms reach.

A memory, passed.