Worn Pieces

I have come here to hide
from the rest of the world.
Some people choose a stream
with fish barely gliding by.
Some people choose the crusted
cheese smell of their cars.
Others just huddle in corners.
I have come to find the pieces
of a past long ago, my mother's
Bible that would not catch fire,
pressed leaves inside, old glamour
shots of deceased actresses, photos
of people I don't know. A restless
life settled in rubble and memory.