Memories

Memories

The best ones we saved for last,

And locked them in a tinsel tin,

Stowed away under cupboards of dust,

And the creaking skeletons within.

Too afraid to watch the burial,

We are too afraid to presume, that one day children

Will explore this secret place, and with their voices consume,

The dead things that lie untouched, but once themselves were touching.

That once were angry and sad, and embarrassed,

That once in the forgotten past said, 'can I share with you, your umbrella?'

And she with the dimples demeured.

That once on a pillow used to lie,

And long for dreams of insanity,

Slipping past old fashioned doors,

Breathing calamity.

Didn't we wonder at times, what was under the stairs?

And the drought of cold air, that came from the attic,

Chilling our home, we left alone.

We moved on to shiny things, angular walls cut thin,

See-through gaps in sky lit halls,

And we forgot the tinsel tin.