Back in Attic
 

Lift the trapdoor, step inside,
Unlatch the windows of your mind.
Breathe in the air of bygone days,
Odours, perfumed memories.
Remember golden yesterdays,
A book with all of Shakespeare's plays,
Pressed wild flowers, high hedgerows,
Steam trains, fairs and cattle shows.
A gramophone, that shellac smell,
Adventure books and William Tell.
Photographs, a cricket bat,
Cobwebs, comics, old school cap.
Roller skates, a crystal set,
A collar for a deceased pet.
Boxes, trunks, a packing case,
A broken clock with dusty face,
Stopped dead. So strange,
Just like the place, no change,
Where time stands still, no chime, no tick,
No talk, no sound, just memories thick.
Lives encompassed in a room,
Mementoes stored and bathed in gloom.
A time machine to step inside,
The perfect place for one to hide.
Escape for now, forget your age,
Immerse yourself - Aladdin's cave.
Take a pinch of ancient snuff,
Inhale the heady, powerful stuff,
Of bygone days and childish ways,
Pick up the bard's old book of plays,
And read, proceed, live for the day,
Reminiscence, come what may.