Awaiting monsterhood, some socks

(the toes worn out).  Within a box

the first rose I was ever given,

dried, unfaded.  Lengths of ribbon,

buttons (loose) and bits of string.

A rather pretty silver ring.

Bills and such, requiring filing;

pictures of my mother, smiling.

Marvellous to find all these;

I still can’t find my bloody keys!

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