In a box beneath the attic beams,
Where memories curl like long lost dreams,
Lie toys of joy, now worn and old,
The treasures of my youth like gold.
A teddy bear, from when I was born.
Once cradled close as I would yawn.
Its button eyes, now dimmed with age,
Once knew the secrets of life’s stage.
My books all piled throughout the years.
Sharing their knowledge, laughter, and tears.
The Fisher Price Garage my brother had.
His train set built for him by dad.
Computers old, computers new
Games we played the whole day through.
Somehow, he always won the game.
That never changed. Always the same.
And still the marbles softly roll,
As they did once, to claim the goal,
Their swirls of colour, wild and true,
Remind me of a world I knew.
Each toy, a bridge to where I’d roam,
A kingdom built, a world at home,
In England’s rain or summer’s glow,
Where childhood’s whispers softly flow.
Now tucked away, they wait in time,
But in my heart, they still will chime,
For toys are not just things to hold,
But keys to stories still untold.
