Discarded

I tried to open a drawer in
the old desk but something inside
braced against the frame, a book perhaps,
or a bundle of papers, or half-closed
ruler. I pushed and pried and jerked.
My thoughts said, Forget it! Nothing there!
But my clattering heart shouted,
Not so, Not so, there’s an old letter
(pink fragile paper smelling of
rose petals) you used to read when
you were lonely . . .
Today when the Goodwill truck
came for the desk I remembered
the words ‘‘you’’ and ‘‘always’’ and ‘‘love.’’