Attic Treasure
Into the headspace
of the house
Unwitting keeper
of our careless clutter
Silently sitting
above us all these years
Among wires, pipes
and tanks
Within piles of
soft loft lagging
Lie cases and
cardboard boxes
Which hold precious
memories
Long suppressed, but
not forgotten
Through cobwebby
threads
And the mustiness
of dust
A time-capsule of
bygones
Are the things of
yesteryear
Which were so important
many years ago
Hurriedly stashed
and stored
With the best of
intentions
Against some hoped-for
bright new future
That did not came
to pass
There, right at
the back
Where the light
barely penetrates
Almost hidden from
view
The baby’s cot in
white-and-blue
Stacked in
sections under the eaves
Paint pitted and
peeling
Its patterns still
visible, but faded
Like the memory of
a young life lost early
Toys casually
collected
In the course of a
shortened childhood
And kept in
memoriam
A model boat, its
torn sail hanging loose
A doll that still sits
staring, unsmiling
Records and tapes collecting
dust
Books with jackets
torn
And piles of her clothing
Quickly removed
from her bedroom
And the rest of the
house
Tearfully pushed
out of sight
And out of mind
Before you came
home again
So that you should
not see them anymore
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012
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