The importance of dull things

Today's prompt is...interesting. We're challenged 'to write a poem about a dull thing' that we own and why (and how) we love it.

Alternatively, we could write about what it would mean to us to give away or destroy a significant object.

I could write volumes on the latter subject, but I am drawn to the former for some reason. I suppose I'm drawn to it because it seems to be more challenging, but it also evokes sentimentality over objects that could never mean anything to anyone but us. I know, my statement seems contradictory in terms, leaning more towards the latter prompt, but perhaps that is exactly what today's challenge is all about...

The ticket

Faded and torn,

dusty and worn,

I hold my ticket 

to my chest

When I close my eyes,

I still hear the sound

of the crowd's cheers,

and merry singing along

to our favourite songs

No photos were taken,

No recordings either;

we just enjoyed it

All I have is my ticket;

faded and torn,

dusty and worn,

holding it 

to my chest