Cleaning day an old jacket stirs memories

Cleaning day, an old jacket stirs memories,

I reach in and pull out a crumpled ticket—

a receipt from a dinner we shared,

two plates in the dim glow of flickering candles.

I trace the faded ink, each number heavy with nostalgia,

remnants of laughter wrapped in moments that once felt profound.

What did we buy with those hours, now stacked against time?

Was it worth the price we paid when silence seeped in,

that ending where our forks crossed too many times,

a snapshot of closeness, now just a hollow echo,

the past written in faded print, ghosts lingering here.