Childhood
I have lived here for almost twenty years
Longer than any previous house
Is that all it is?
My childhood home seems to be part of me
A conglomeration of solidity
And the immaterial interwoven
With memories of play
And minor acts of rebellion
I am happy here as
I was happy there
Buried in the garden is a tin
Filled with long forgotten treasure
From a bygone age
Has it been found
Only to be discarded
Or will it lay dormant
One day to be placed in
A museum, a time capsule
Of late 20th century joy
The kind, only known
By a child
Thoughts
Museums are filled with random stuff from peoples lives. I like that.
Hello Potters! A trip to Gladstone Pottery was well worth it.
© John Monaghan 2025. All Rights Reserved
