Serial Poems Number Eleven

Why do we keep things?

Like birthday cards, photos, trinkets

In hopes, one day, we’d have time to reminisce

Once we’re not as busy

Is there such a time

Rushing and working, just to end up burnt out

When do we ever have the time?

So don’t wait

Make the time

Sit down

Read an old letter

Let those memories fill yiou

With the life that is yours

Work is not life

Social media is not life

Money is not life

Power is not life

Love is not life

You are life