The Collection

I enjoy this time alone with self, arranging odd things I keep on my shelf. Aluminum steel and pewter cast shoulders, my in deep thought kitty that begs you to hold her. A one color picture inside a little brass frame, my just like me frog who still has no name. He's a neat little frog always cold to the touch, he has only one eye so he never cries much. There's my first pair if shoes, and they're wore to a knub. They were bought when brand new, they weren't hand me down love. There are seven keys to doors that I've never been thru, if I knew where they were that's something I'd do. There's a rubber thing here that I've had the longest, of all of my things our connections the strongest. I don't know what it is or from where it came, I don't know what it does, If it does anything. It is soft and perfect to squeeze in the hand, and it bounces forever before it will land. There's a tooth from a foe that I keep for good luck, removed from my hand from where it was stuck. Theres a miniature Bible way smaller then most, the true word of our GOD the lord of all host. There's a small winding clock that cannot keep time, because it has to be wound but neglects to remind. There's a photo of some girl I forgot that I knew, whoever she is to left of my shoes, Two pens and a book with numbers and names, in front if the one color picture in its little brass frame. All of these things bring a smile to my face, each little thing in own little space. When I gaze at these things I comfort myself, this collection of things I keep on my shelf.