Days in Storage

There’s a sunny door
Flooded with the light,
Through which more stuff comes.

The rest is just dark.
The stuff goes in there.
Some does disappear,

But it’s limitless,
And stuff comes back out,
Frequently, to light.

It’s a different light
From the sunny door.
It has no real source.

There’s plenty of room
To rearrange stuff,
But watch the bright door.