Things that I own from my past…
The ones that I remember and cherish now…
A riverside pebble from age 12
A roadside coin from age 15
A crystal rock from age 18
A rusted metal wire from age 21
Have they all been here before me?
And will they be here after me too?
So on second thoughts I think…
Do I own them?
Or is it true that they own me!
I read 4-5 of your poems/pieces and I have to say, you go into the depths of human mind and explore the meaning of the things you write about, and this one is a perfect example of that. I think they own you(me) . Preets
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is a saying 'Keep a thing for seven years, you will then find a use for it.' It is the attachment to every little thing that makes one to own these petty things.