The Stains We Keep

A piece of gum, hardened, stuck tight—

tucked in pockets like memories lost,

fragrant with stale mint, a childhood bite,

as I reach for this fragment, feel the cost.

So many times, I’ve found it there,

underneath a bus seat, on the street—

a moment tossed, the world unaware,

yet here it clings like a promise, bittersweet.

The sidewalk still whispers those summers gone,

yellowed papers and laughter that sparkled like dew—

a piece of gum, a lingering fawn,

reminds me of places and people I once knew.