Entering the dim lit room,
it smells of dust
and looks of gloom.
A small light, on the table,
to brighten the space. There is
a jar, of multiple items, some
wooden matches, pennies and
such. Among the items, I see a ring.
Interesting, I thought, a ring lays with
forgotten memories, of love and pain,
about two strangers, who are un-named
lays there in repose, with a dried up Rose.
What a story it must be,
a lost love; an old reverie,
of romantic days, in years gone by;
I bit my lip so I wouldn't cry.
Are the pictures, on the wall,
in this room, of a young lady and
a young man, whose name was Jim?