Poetry Tuesday: Starting Over

What We Lost

Your mother called me yesterday
To tell me that she found my keys.
The ones you told me you had lost. Or so you say.

When I learned that you had decided not to stay,
I thought it was because of me.
Then your mother called me yesterday

to ask me why you went away,
and tell me that she found the box, beneath the tree,
the one you told me you had lost. Or so you say.

I found some pieces of the past you may
remember. Photos of us, and the ring you gave me.
That’s why your mother called me yesterday.

She was hoping I could, in some way
explain; I told her: he never even returned my keys.
(The ones you told me you had lost. Or so you say.)

I went back and stood beneath the tree today.
I asked if it remembered and I fell to my knees
after your mother called me yesterday
about the things you told me you had lost. Or so you say.

*This is part of the Weekly Writing Challenge.*

Also, bonus points to anyone who can identify the form of this poem in the comments.

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