Only now do I know ‘mine’ cycles. 
From sandbox to nursing home,
Stuff that’s ‘ mine’ defines one. 

For the first quatrain, we pull stuff
To us like a lifeboat, on which we 
Work as if that vessel was sinking.

Quatrain 2, we polish and replace,
Stack stuff two by two or more, each
New thing to quarantee we survive. 

Third Q, and we begin to wonder 
If all that’s stacked is worth the effort
It takes to keep the pile from mold and rust. 

Then to fourth q, please get this stuff
Out of sight, give it to Good Will, save 
It for the kids. Just move it off my deck. 

Stuff didn’t save us from gravity, age, or
The barnacled boat gone to port. Wonder if
Early knowing might’ve writ a better page.