Potholes, bricks
Blocking the path
The dust parade moves so slowly
I almost mistake them for statues
Scraps of nostalgia
Dilapidated furniture
Cherished by no one
Boxes of musty images
Vintage smiles on unknown faces
Platoon of dirty cartons
Infantry of broken knick-knacks
Piles of timeless mold spores
Haphazardly stacked
Untouched for decades
The ancient falcon
Stands guard
Over the junk
Delaying the process
The priceless collection
Of a life's journey
Filled with memories of old ghosts
No longer dwelling here
Forgotten sentiments
These are the halls of mildew
Where yesterday's rubbish
Waits to be discarded
By the next generation
