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