Dressing up box


A father’s old school trunk,

Held together with tape,

Some might say junk,

Or a world of escape.


Ball gowns, gloves and vintage skirts,

Cinderella, Snow White or Belle.

Hats, wigs and ruffled shirts,

Treasures with a musty smell.


Corners eaten with rust,

Contents fit for a princess.

A dented lid gathering dust,

Protects an enchanted dress.


Now the trunk’s long gone,

Just an empty wardrobe floor,

But childhood games live on,

With every adult day,

I recall the games we’d play.