Papa's Things

I am sitting in his chair, wondering if what I'm doing here is wrong
I never had the heart. I don't know where to start
If there's s anything you want, she says, take it. Now he's gone
the stuff is yours" papa's things
Papa's things

There's pencils and there's fountainpens, pocketbooks and knives and Stamps galore, (He is gone)
I haven't got the nerve More than I deserve
These are the little things he kept for years inside his desk they slept
He's gone papa's things
And there's rows and rows of books:
the medical profession papa's things, figurines and skeletons.
His netsuke collection. papa's things
The terracotta horses I did when I was small
The steel engravings hanging on the wall papa's things
Smell of leather and tobacco still hanging on the air
And my convex reflection in the copper chandelier
Papa's things

Papa's things