Useless

In the basement there’s a machine.
An ugly thing, visually speaking,
And unattractive in function.

It’s just a relic really.
Old and broken down.
A memory of something gone now,
Formerly useful,
But not any longer.

Someday soon I’ll throw it out,
But now right now.
It wouldn’t be right.

There’s something to be said
For owning something useless.