Poetry Day Ireland: A poem from Angela Hayes, Bennettsbridge

Why is it when it comes to Spring cleaning

That my hubby and I can’t agree

On things that should go in the dustbin

Or what an antique might be?

Right now we are cleaning the garage

And very soon there’s a pile

Of various bits and pieces

That have cluttered the place for a while.

There’s that old battered log basket

Now says he “You’ve no need for that”

But I put it back in the corner

“Sure it might do a bed for the cat”.

This box of odd cups and saucers

Now my mind seems to run overtime

I can see them being hailed at an auction

And claimed as a great antique find.

An old moth-eaten felt hat,

Sits balanced on top of the pile

Now I can remember with fondness

When it was worn with great style.

There are various one legged soldiers

And a small toy tractor and plough

Ah! Many’s the time they gave pleasure

It seems cruel to abandon them now. '

Then hubby looks up in frustration

And says he “It’s quite plain to see”

If I keep standing here any longer

An antique myself I will be!

Angela Hayes Annamult Bennettsbridge