This is a poem from possibly my favourite book of poetry thus far in my short little life. This book in particular is mainly about love. Loss of love. But in the book she travels many places sees many things, but still, in everything, she sees that love. And misses it. And criticizing herself for needing it. The poems are all very raw, very true and quite lovely.
Here is The Jar from the book of poems Poems 4 A. M. by Susan Minot :