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It's an aged collection of this and of that
and to some it might seem like a load of old tat.
The curtains are faded from sunlight abuse
and the table's distressed after long years of use.
The emulsion is dingy, there are chips in the plaster,
there are pictures in plenty but not one old Master.
While there in the corner stands the slim escritoire
bought by my father before the First War,
where he stored his cocaine for his patients to see
when he set up his first dental surgery.
There's a table in oak and a neat little stool
designed and made at the Grammar School.
While graceful in shape and once stuffed with horse hair
is my Granny Zillah's Victorian chair.
There's not much of great value but priceless to me
for they are not just my possessions but my MEMORY.
Joyce Eaglestone. |
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