Some are mine because I own them:
My car, my rings, my household things
Some are mine because because they’re me:
My nose, my heart, my burps, a fart
Some are mine, although I loan them:
My time, my clothes, my trust, my prose
Some are mine, but shared in part:
My air, my space, my town, my race
Some are mine, in dream alone:
My eternal youth, my quest for truth
Some things shall always be apart:
My past, my future, my hopeless yearnings
My hopeful guesses, my untaxed earnings.
But only one shall be all mine.
I own them not, they are not me, I loan them not, although they’re free, shared with none, but dreamt of oft, together always, held aloft
By a gentle love of tickled joy
That old story
The girl
The boy
The bittersweet:
Mine
His
Hers
Ours:
No possession dare compete
With those whom we complete