I swallow your secrets without a complaint, Your crumbs, your wrappers, your things you can’t. I’m fed all day, yet never grow fat, And somehow you’re proud when you empty me at that. I’m where old treasures go to die, Where I might need this goes to lie. I stand in the corner, humble and grim What am I?

If you look at the numbers on my face, you won't find thirteen any place.

My favorite began with star, and took us out of this world. Scary to some, yet I may be the only way forward. I keep things out, until someone lets them in. What waits beyond me is anybody's guess.

I hold up your stories, your treasures, your past, Though I never take steps, I support to the last. I stand in the silence, flat against the wall, If you pile on too much, I might take a fall.

I sketch on the sidewalk, I write on the board, but press me too hard and I’ll screech in discord.