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.

by Maya Angelou

Other poems of ANGELOU (52)

Comments (7)

Wouldn't it be nice if this were really true? As soon as the new year begins, all of our mistakes from the previous year would be erased and we could just start over? An encouraging poem nevertheless.
The eve of New Years Day Left the Old Year lost to all. Very decent poem with precious message that a past is always lost. Enjoyed the poem. Thanks for sharing.
This is a great poem. The old year is indeed lost but is memory is fresh
Nice work with the muse of the year gone by.
In my personal experience the events of one year linger on into the next and the next, sometimes it is the tragic events, sometimes even seemingly trivial events can reverberate down the years of a person's life
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