Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Collector By Tom Stanley Janca

I know it is in my genes,
To collect lots of things.
To make the world a better place,
But don't complain about my space.
This box of screws, my spool of wire,
Just stacks of things that I admire.
Sort and stack, count and clean,
I am a lean mean collecting machine.
Come see me tomorrow,
If you want to buy or borrow.
If you need something now your out of luck.
Everything is buried and stuck.
When I need a part to finish my job.
I know I have it but I soon sob.
To dig it out is such a chore.
It's just easier to go to the store.
Copyright Tom Stanley Janca 2004

1 comment:

  1. Collect, collect a thing or two
    than one more and a million later
    a mountain of meaning and memories
    lay gathered in the houses pouch,
    is there any room left to sit on the couch?

    What happens when a man stays centered in one place while wandering all over the place
    returning with trinkets and treasure from distance to numerous to measure,
    He builds a castle of memories in artifacts of discoveries!
    Always your son,
    Love
    Reese

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