In my room-Pieces of self

I have always held close
the pieces of my world
that hold meaning
though memories are often not enough
I have a special place
where I see each day
Pieces of self
a place to visit.
A Gullah clothes pin doll
her message love, most important of all.

A stuffed honey bee bear
a childish reminder of my mother.
A cup full of seashells,
ah the ocean breeze and treasures I hold so dear.
A shot glass from a trip
down Route 66 filled with stones of red
and colors places my feet have stood upon.
A colorful round, piece of necklace
from younger hipper days…oh the stories of then.
A verse from Crazy Horse memorial
“this is where my people lay” brought tears to my eyes
as I stood on the mountain and envisioned his dream.

A porcelain angel of courage
a gift in a battle to live
conquering cancer she fills my heart with hope.
A photo of the man who meant the world to me,
the ship of stability when the seas got rocky
my anchor through life,
up until the end.
A photo of my yesterday self and her mother. Younger years with the cigarette, gone from my fingers for years. The Birkenstocks still sit comfortably to see me on my wanderings.
Above, the Jack Daniels jug
emptied not by this girl, but filled with silver saving for a dream I have not yet put my finger on, perhaps a trip to collect more memories, new places to see, new friends to meet.
Around it lays a bell, I was told from India, it has a pretty little ring when I wear it, but the dogs don’t like it much.
A room deodorizer from London that I actually wear on my clothes, the blend of aromas intrigue me and when asked what is that amazing scent, I smile and say, oh, something on my shelf.
Bahoma I think is the name. It brings me to comfort on mornings so rough.
A piece of sea glass, so hard to find anymore with all of the plastic abound. I get so giddy when I encounter a piece. Still made by the ocean and not man-made by machines to sell cheap in a store.
A small cedar jewelry chest filled with ticket stubs from the concerts I’ve gone to. (very long ago)
A wheat penny found sitting on top of the grass by the driveway that I walk past every day, where it came from, it doesn’t matter. 1951 the year, I am still waiting to see the meaning of that.
Some look at it and see clutter,
I look at it and see a shrine to the pieces of my life that mean so very much.
Just thought you may want to get a glimpse into my life and a few of my trinkets I hold dear. Like a field trip to my little piece of love. Welcome friends, so glad you could stop by and visit.
What do you hold dear, do you have a shelf/shrine to your trinkets? I would love to hear about them. Peace and Love.