Trash

I can turn the hand
I leave a trail, now I can make it back
Keep hold only way I can
Tie a rope to hold on to the past
I would cross the street
Tar is sticking underneath my feet
All that time I had
Prick my toes on walnuts in the grass
Don’t want to hold it if it isn’t mine forever
But I grab onto anything and add it to the clutter
What am I doing?
Collecting trash
I can turn the page
Calendar from ten years ago
I could never turn away
Can’t stop watching something getting old
What am I doing?