Ashes

It's a hand full of ash
Just some ash in a bag
Gray, grainy, not very pretty.

No, it is ash from the eruption
Mount St. Helens
Carefully gathered and sent to me
By an old family friend.

It could be found in any ashtray
Yes, that is what it looks like
Cigarette ashes in a baggy.

Not to me, you see
I was young and it came in the mail
And I was in awe of it.

What a silly thing to say
You were in awe of a bag
Of dirty ash.

Well,  this family friend had sent it
She gathered it herself
And wrote of how it piled up
On the porch!

And what makes that anything?
A minute of time?
The scooping?

No, you are missing the point,
It wasn't the gathering,
Or even what the stuff looks like.

Get to the point already,
I am already tired of talking about this
Besides, the bag is empty.

It was a connection, to the friend
But also to the place.
I thought it would be the coolest thing
To have that ash pile on my porch.

And now, it is just dust in the bottom
Of that box there.
Just as worthless as ever.

I really think you are just jealous.
You didn't have a friend that cared
Enough to gather ash and send you
A small part of their life.
Just because they cared about you.

Ha! You are out of things to say now,
Aren't you?
Well...I'll tell you....
I would send you ashes from
Mount St. Helens,
In a little bag,
Just for you.