The Shed Instead of a Tree House

No picture today - thought who ever reads this poem should come up with their own picture =]


Nostalgia hidden in a shed
where so many memories
forgotten
walk forward
announcing their presence.


Many an hour spent in here
with magazines
or a book
the time made clear
by a carpet
covering the floor
now out of place
muddy, overloaded
with gardening tools.


The shelf, which seemed so high
when sat under
now not so much
sunlight creeping through
the cracks in the wood.


Cobwebs crowded by the
windowpane
where once was a toy
where stars appeared on the cheeks
when wet,
everything may be gone
but I hope I don't forget.