Today’spoem

Just yesterday, I breached The cobwebbed seals to the attic, To leave a dusty trail across the floor, Rediscovering the buried imprints, Of half a lifetime, left hibernating, Behind that oftforgotten door, Where, lying spread out and confused, Lay abandoned family photo albums, and heirlooms, Of exquisite bone china dishes, from the East, Those wedding presents, far too valuable to be used, Kept in reserve, for some cordon bleu feast, That never served up any food, Now laid to rest among the gas masks, And ribboned medals from granddad’s wars, In that lofted, mausoleum of a room, Where whole sets of children’s books from school, Still echo with their weekly news. There are black bin bags full of discarded toys, With Barbie doll and her boyfriend Ken, Lying alongside the dormant Action Men, Of a little boy, and his once almighty, Millennium Falcon ship, Struggling to see the light again, Now that he’s a man, with no time left to play. There are rusting prams and walking sticks, Faulty lamps and candlesticks, Worn suitcases full of My Little Ponies and old train sets, Broken TVs and holed fishing nets, And Christmas decorations in boxes and tins, Handed down, through the years, Like the enormous dolls’ house, And the son’s wooden fort, Made with affection, not bought, Amid tumbling stacks of cassettes and CDs, And racks of teenage magazines, Awash with Bliss and NMEs. There’s Habitat furniture, scratched, And out of fashion, under covers and long forgotten, And more and more redundant memorabilia, Left for some future scrutineer to decide What to keep and what to throw away. Personally, I don’t think it could ever be me, So I’ll close the door and ‘downsize’ some other day. Terry Clarke, Liverpool.