Clad Silver
With some historical significance, will you C/C please?
Into the attic at grampa’s house
I would sneak, though was given away
by the stairs that creaked, found
but to explore, I was bound, intrepid
gramps sayin,”Yer hardly as quiet as a Mouse.”
Then laughing away, he’d let me play,
with so many wonderful things
a place of toys, and a magic machine
that caused my heart each time to race,
in fantasies I spent many a day.
It was a Silver clad dream, with a handle on one side
three wheels shown bright, through a dusty window
spin they would as I engaged them
pulling down cranking, gears would chatter
but no matter, I was in a place with no need to hide
Once after spinnin, each wheel would stop
pictures of Clovers, Hearts and Suns
numbers and bars, such fun each mystery revealed
special times I never won, using up my allowance in dimes
Saturday’s on an old Persian rug, there is where I’d flop.
I’d beg more coins, but was told, there are weeds you can pull
Your sentimentalism lives upon
my wondering of you, fogged soul
An excellent poem, easy going, a vivid lady’s sentiments for childhood, my eyes felt of you, (and I am a tough one). A good sentimental kid you are…
“Calling All Clad” – Extreme Beach Metal Detecting – Silver – MDG – ScoopCam OG