Left behind.
My Fanta flute,
washed clean,
for Gamal.
For Old Anwar,
my plump tomato memory,
drawn by me
with a T.
For Muma,
my red pencil and tablet,
and a page filled simply
with my favorite shape.
My favorite funny-bug letter,
rolling in a row:
O O O
Open.
Unbroken.
Eternal.