I have boots I don’t use; and coats I don’t wear; food I don’t eat and pain I don’t share;
I have wounds that won’t heal; thoughts that gather dust; Ideas and ambitions moth eaten by rust.
coffee that gets cold; words which disappear; friendships that don’t last, and all manners of fear.
some lacy dreams and broken wings; treasures amidst forgotten things.
unusable , unfinished and taking up space; silent and ancient; lacking beauty and taste,
they’re seemingly empty; root bound with no source; but I’ve found in the end
they’re part of the life’s course.