When You Come

When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an attic, Gatherings of days too few. Baubles of stolen kisses. Trinkets of borrowed loves. Trunks of secret words, I CRY.  p/s; by Maya Angelou *I own nothing* btw I'll be doing dis for Literature  *law pn ade literature okayh*  ;D too attached to it as i can feel wat she felt