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,
I recall the games we’d play.
foodtealife 