Beyond the aging entrance
The darkness is dense, light rarely probes.
Here lies evidence of yesterday,
Outlines of objects, dust draped on them like robes.

Untouched, unexplored, lying still,
Form and shape barely defined.
Dusty images all so tranquil,
Memories flood into the mind.

A thick atmosphere of things forgotten,
A musty fragrance scents the air,
Above, the roof many timbers rotten,
A sense of the deserted old memories just left there.

Geodetic cobwebs hang from corner angles,
Blending in with the cold setting,
Strange, unnatural, the sharp thin tangles,
Ever encrusted upon the past, an encrouching Netting.

Passing back between the old objects,
Leaving the past-travelling through time,
Breaking into the light of the present,
Resealing the cover, leaving it all behind.

Matthew Vincent 2A.

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