Drinking to Remember
Diane Elayne Dees

This evening, I make myself a drink,
using the most beautiful glass
in my collection. Many decades ago,
it held a green candle that you gave me.
I couldn’t bare to toss it out,
and—aside from a small chip--
it is brilliantly intact. Our friendship
did not hold up as well—I lost track
of you many years ago. You liked
giving me gifts—I have this glass,
a still-blank journal, a tiny
lacquered box, a marble horse,
a green-black fused glass brooch.
They are all beautiful.
I sip my drink and think of you,
wonder where you are,
how you are, whether I gave
you gifts that make you think of me.
I empty my glass; it sparkles
the way it did long ago
when it held a steady flame.