IN THE GARAGE

In the depths of the garage lives an old, pink bike,

A frayed skipping rope, a faded Frisbee, an unused trike.

There's a pair of worn boots and a folded-up tent;

A pile of rusty poles near a broken air vent.

For some reason unknown, a dart-board hangs upon the wall,

But without any darts we cannot play at all.

A discarded wardrobe sits silently towards the back,

Not holding any clothes, just an old, dirty sack.

In the corner, a tower of boxes does stand,

Containing straw and a handful of rubber bands.

Oh! There's that Barbie doll that I lost long ago;

Amongst the baubles, tinsel and cans of fake snow.

I'm afraid to venture further, there are spiders about,

Possible, maybe, I should have a clean-out!