The Roller of Memories

I found it tucked deep, under dust and despair,

its sheets half-used, forgotten in there.

Each roll, a reminder of moments I’d kept,

a collection of fibers, of laughter, I wept.

Before friends arrived, I swept through the room,

a ritual of order, of clearing the gloom.

It gathered the echoes of laughter and sighs,

a map of our pasts, laid out like goodbyes.