She was a collector of sorts

She lived to breathe new life

into the broken, lost and forgotten treasures

she found along her path.

Some in such disarray, they could not be saved

but she kept them anyway…

for she loved them for their imperfections.

She found a place for each

The broken souls on the top shelf

so they had a view of the beautiful world.

The lost memories were stored in mason jars

on the dusty window sills of her home,

because the sunlight would reflect off the glass

and create a silhouette of light against her dull walls.

She stacked all the forgotten treasures

upon her book case, surrounded by all the stories

she loved to read, so they too would have a story to tell.


Her collection of the uncollected

portrayed a life of moments missed,

forgotten loves and letters worn with time.

All the things that life had thrown away.

For they had no value, to others

Yet she found homes for all these moments

within her heart. She gave them a reason for being

the imperfect, perfections of her life.

She breathed new life into the past

and gave them a reason to exist.

A collection that had no value

except to the collector herself.


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