Five pounds fifty in change, exactly,
a library card on its date of expiry.
 
A postcard stamped,
unwritten, but franked,
 
a pocket size diary slashed with a pencil
from March twenty-fourth to the first of April.
 
A brace of keys for a mortise lock,
an analogue watch, self winding, stopped.
 
A final demand
in his own hand,
 
a rolled up note of explanation
planted there like a spray carnation
 
but beheaded, in his fist.
A shopping list.
 
A givaway photgraph stashed in his wallet,
a kepsake banked in the heart of a locket.
 
no gold or silver,
but crowning one finger
 
a ring of white unweathered skin.
That was everything.

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