12/4

out with the old...
if only i could
if only i would
but i am a collector
of memories
of dreams
of scraps
and pieces
of feathers
of hope
and of hopes dashed
i don't discriminate much
i don't drop a stone i've picked up on the beach
i don't discard the one sock whose mate i haven't seen in decades
i am a collector
and i am being crushed by the weight of what i carry

one day maybe i'll fly free
one day maybe i'll let go
one day maybe
one day