Souvenirs

i sit with my souvenirs
sprawled across the floor
not the postcards and magnets
bought from some store
nor the trinkets, keychains
and earrings, so easy to fall for

but the ones i collected
from mountains and sea shores

ticket stubs from
the first flight i payed for
fallen leaves and wildflowers
kept pressed in a book before

smooth stones picked
from the river,
flowing through a valley
in the himalayan peaks

pine cones gathered
from a forest,
while soaking in the dappled sunlight
through the tall pine trees

sea shells collected
from the beach,
walking barefoot on the sand
feeling the salty breeze

i like to bring a little something back
from everywhere i go

so that,
no matter how long ago it was
or how far away i am,
i have more than just a photo

a little part of it
is with me
as a keepsake
to hold on to

as my wave of nostalgia ebbs away
i pick up, from the floor
these little wonders from across the world
and put them safely, inches apart
back in my drawer