Some homes don't let go of things
And their floors become unclear
Behind their blinds
It's hard to find
But the reason's always fear

Closets full of little things
A sweet sentimental Salve
Various keys
To Memories
Rather re-lived than had

kitchens gathered up with things
As if clutched in jaws most grim
It's all about
Not running out
False anticipation

Bedrooms full of silent things
Like a promise never kept
The sheepless wool
That's ment to cull
The sight from dreams once dreamt