Sifting through boxes
I should have unpacked two years ago, 
Evidence of the life I’ve lived. 

Fragments of unfinished poemd
On scraps of paper and
half full notebooks 

Photos of students
I taught long ago
I don’t remember names
I was sure I’d never forget

Sheet music 
From my time spent
Learning cello.

Mix CDS, a medium lost and obsolete.

Postcards from places I’ve been,
Love’s ones’ letters from where they’ve been,
Ephemera from places around the world.

All these memories crowded into such a small space.

I wonder if the contents of this box
were the only thing you knew about me, 
What would you think?