I have a problem, I admit;
it's one I really must address.
A strong desire to collect,
causes my house to be a mess.
I'm running out of space you see,
for all my books and journals too.
Pennies, trinkets, and pottery,
are piled high, it makes me blue.
Every corner, bookshelf, and stand,
looks messy now from all my stuff.
I should get rid of most of it,
but just the thought of it is tough.
For every item has a past,
a story stored in memory.
Old toys I have they bring me back
to childhood days, being carefree.
boxes I have of my mom's things,
I just can't bear to give away.
For years they've taken closet space,
and longer still, it's there they'll stay.
Collecting's what I love to do,
these are the things I can't replace.
I guess this mess I will address,
by renting out a storage space.
For now I will just dust around,
and hope my leaning piles won't fall.
These precious things that I collect,
they make me happy, one and all.
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