Time moves me and I forget,
until I fall on things you left.

I tried hiding each around
to make them hard to narrow down.

But spot a bottle you helped dry,
it’s almost sad I didn’t cry.

I should just break it and be free
from that cold amber memory.

Might I regret that, to forget?
And glue back each jagged fragment?

While true I’m happy I’ve moved on,
I still don’t wish your traces gone.

They remind me of who I was,
and the love I gave freely once.

via Daily Prompt: Trace