Things which bring the happiness of being there before,

Never worried about the past or the closing of doors.

Things used to hold precious memories of old,

Reminders of when you did make a shadow like stories told.

Things we know little except the shadow fell where tread

Now without their help the memories stay locked in the head.

But those with possessions, they must be handled with care

Lest the possessor become the possessed, beware!

A museum would be proud to hold as much as we

Enough treasures to outweigh the sea.

Pile it up, pile it high to reach the sky

Before you find the shadows hidden beyond your eye!

A little candle all dusty and broke, no more lite to hold, kind of a joke.

No longer needed to lite your smoke or .... take a toke!

But why is it there? To remind the space

Was taken by shadow of travel to another place.

One to save yet thousands more and their shadows are there no more.

Their purpose lost behind the locked doors

That funneled my childhood toward what?

The dinner I missed when I forgot what was in that pot!

Possessing or possessed, you can’t decide, these things have a place inside,

A place where all the memories, as shadows, now go to reside.

Fade though they might their hold is still strong

With the hope they may yet belong.

When the memories fade to a faceless shadow, the things you hold must go!

When they tell you no more of the things whose places they know.

Maybe if they were made of silver or gold, a place of their own to go

To hold or show that which you used to know!

To keep or let go as long as you know to let go

The things that don’t hold places you used to know!

Keep them as you will until they spill out and cover the yard,

Nowhere to go until you learn to discard.