I have all the stuff of dreams.
Any third world girl might envy my sweet life.
Gathering genes pushed a search
housed with pride,
one might mistake for greed.
The things have not worn out,
Are they the pain my neck reports?
If rid of them
could the grave be for these burdens,
not for me?
I heard about a friend
whole children brought a dumpster
when she passed,
and all those demitasse were chunked,
tossed out with worn out underwear
and smelly gowns.
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Comments about this poem (Stuff by June Levy )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
- Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
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- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- A Fairy Song, William Shakespeare
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