There had been a fire years ago
And the only company the house had was ghosts
I had gone in on a recovery mission
Hoping to find something among the ashes
There on a table, surrounded by debris and dust
A sketchbook of yours, pristine and untouched
Inside, I found a reflection
Myself, in sketches, memories, and photos
All the angles, all the colors, all the textures
Black and blonde and red hair
Dresses made of feathers and velvet and lace
Sunsets on the beach, parties in the kitchen
I saw my youth in all its vibrant glory
All my mistakes and rewards
I gazed at the proof of my former beauty and foolishness
Then searched for you so I could return it