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I have kept all, not one is thrown away, not one given to the ragman, not one thrust in a corner with a “P-f-f.”
The red ones and the blue, the long ones in stripes, and each of the little black and white checkered ones.
Keep them: I tell my heart: keep them another year, another ten years: they will be wanted again.
They came once, they came easy, they came like a first white flurry of snow in late October,
Like any sudden, presumptuous, beautiful thing, and they were cheap at the price, cheap like snow.
Here a red one and there a long one in yellow stripes,
O there shall be no ragman have these yet a year, yet ten years.
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.