High and low, you look for the thing
you kept that might serve as heirloom

to hand down in a future that isn’t only
coming, but well on its way— You didn’t mean

to hide it so cleverly that now it doesn’t seem
to want to be found. It isn’t much, but the words

I bequeath magnify the nature of the gift—
somewhere among the drawers and felt-lined boxes,

a hope someone will remember how they looked
for the beautiful that could be loved in you.

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