dusty jars

the past
is still there
somewhere,
inside a dusty
jar on a dark
shelf.
it sits, in line
with all
the others,
each a moment,
a day,
a laugh,
a tear.
all those bits
there for you
to pull down
and open,
take a whiff,
a little taste,
and live again
in that unreal
space
that is memory.
all of those dusty jars,
that when put
together,
are your
life.