Wednesday, October 5, 2011

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,


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

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