We’ve Grazed Our Fates

Can you use us to write what went on
And not use us to make a new tale?

We don’t want to be your life. We don’t
Want to be one more myth on the pile.

But we would be fine, would love to hold
In us, to sit with bits of the past,

Like urns, like tombs if you like, but bright,
A hoard of what was that rust won’t spoil.