The Attic
The attic holds such fascination
I climb the ladder in trepidation,
The attic is a time machine
Most things hidden and unseen,
I lift the hatch and take a peak
The old rocking chair begins to creak
Dust coats the old wooden chest
The lid embossed with a crest,
All the games of yesteryear
In the corner, uncles spear,
Boxes piled with books and photos
Most containing all my heroes,
Snakes and ladders, ludo, lots of games
They belonged to my brother James.
Oh! look my old train set
On the ledge fathers old cornet,
A place where I can come and dream
Oh! just hit my head on the beam,
Underneath the old guitar
Just found my 007 car,
I think I'll go I'm getting mellow
Maybe I'll return tomorrow
I descend the ladder and close the hatch
Just for now I'll watch the match.
poem by Hazel Connelly
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
