The old wardrobe

Set in the corner of the room

tall, dust covered, an upright tomb,

imposing presence, it proudly stood

beneath a dusty covered hood.



Hood removed, it revealed an air

of nostalgic times, of loving care.

With a coating of a glaze, it spoke

of a lasting love affair of oak.



Shall I place inside my hand,

the handle in a brass, so grand

and look upon a world inside,

of memories, a place to hide.



I pull so gently on the door

and peer inside from roof to floor.

I see before me, a cotton dress,

no doubt once bought to impress



There are many other things inside.

Some hats, some coats, dress for a bride.

Then out of the corner of my eye,

I see a moth about to fly.



It soars out, up into the room

and flees its dusty, darkened tomb.

Flying up straight into the light,

it reaches for the ceiling height.



I then look back and search once more

for some more memories on the floor.

I spy some separate high heeled shoes

and think, they usually come in twos.



A history of it’s owners past

has revealed itself to me at last.

And though I know it’s owners nam,e

The spoken word is not the same.