Tonight as I was packing for a trip, I poked around in the closet.
I noticed a little wooden box in the back of an upper shelf
and decided to see what was in it.
The top was brightly decorated.
Then I recalled its origin.
Nancy and I bought it in 1994 during a honeymoon vacation in Jamaica.
I opened it,
I had placed
of her wallet
after leukemia took her in 2003.
In the bottom were our wedding rings.
Sorrow had ambushed me.
Tears did not flow,
but their wells were stirred.
These thoughts do not trouble me constantly,
and when least expected,
sorrow will alight
if only for a moment.
As I age,
I find that life
finds more ways
to remind me
of its brevity.