Written by: Hazel Connelly

The attic holds such fascination
I climb the ladder in trepidation.

The attic is a time machine
Most things hidden and unseen.

I lift the hatch and take a peek
The old rocking chair begins to creak.

Dust coats the old wooden chest
The lid embossed with a crest.

All the games of yesteryear
In the corner uncles spear.

Boxes piled high with books and photos
Most containing all my heroes.

Snakes and ladders, ludo, lots of games
They belong to my brother James.

Oh look! my old train set
On the shelf fathers cornet.

A place where I come and dream
Oh! just hit my head on the beam.

Underneath the old guitar
Just found my 007 car.

I think I'm getting rather mellow
I may return again tomorrow.

I descend the ladder and close the hatch
Now I'll go and watch the match.