My Cupboard
Years and years of my life had I lost
Collecting stuff that would not forever stay,
As the morning turns to night to die
They would leave me one fine day.
My cupboard always remain full
With things I might not again need,
And if ever I feel the need of any
Away from mine eyes it remained hid.
And time rolled on and with it
Did rise in my cupboard the pile of things,
But my days flew away as if
It had found its invisible wings.
As time flew away, I did realize I have to go
And few days are left in my store,
And the more I looked at my cupboard, I felt
What would be of my stuff when I breathe no more?
Shall I give them to you,
You, who would then stay?
Or shall I keep them in my cupboard
Till I breathe my last day?
Yet why does it hurt to give my stuff to you
When I know I have to go?
Things that are mine would once be yours
When time would end my life’s ado.
And why does it hurt
To give all once you called your own,
And accept the truth
That nothing is yours once you are gone.
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