I sat in my comfortable chair
Looking
out at the greyness
Comfortable
and warm
And
my thoughts strayed to distant days
And
i began to reflect
I
had reached a point in my life
Where
there was more behind me
Than
there was to come
And
i looked back on a life
Stretching
back across the decades
To
simpler times and people
With
simpler hopes dreams and aspirations
And
I am drawn to the dustiest reaches of the attic
In
search of half forgotten memories
In
half forgotten boxes
Hidden
in the dark and dingy recesses
Of
a seldom visited place
Rummaging
amidst the dusty flotsam
Accumulated
after a long life
They
sit untidy and disarranged
As
the cobweb covered corners of my mind
Behind
the old discarded toys
No
longer cool in this electronic age
An
old gramophone, a sewing machine
An
old rocking chair and pictures long out of fashion
And
countless hatboxes
My
search is rewarded when I find a box
Beneath
the thickest covering of dust
And
open it with bated breath
To
reveal the accumulated papers of my life
Cards,
programs, tickets, souvenirs,
Snapshots
of lost moments
And
items once too precious to part with
On
top football programs
My
first England game when we beat Hungary 4 – 1
And
Tony Curry scored from outside the box
Assorted
United games home and away
The
FA cup final when we lost to Arsenal in the last minute
Then
my eyes were drawn to a white box
The
sort that special greetings card came in
It
was immediately familiar
Reminding
me of first love
Carefully
boxed and kept
The
love letters from Janice
Scented
with cheap perfume
Full
of young girls chatter
About
favourite pop groups and fashions
And
the days “must haves”
Talk
of adolescent love and longing
Kept
in the same box fondly remembered
The
perfume still evocative
Though
faded like the memory
But
I could see her pretty face
Framed
with fine brown hair
Bobbed
so it kissed her neck as she moved
Her
developing figure that hinted at what would be
Her
gentle laugh that made you turn your eyes to her
The
soft delicate hands that felt so good in mine
That
first kiss that lingered on my lips
Long
after we parted
I
wonder how her life went
What
kind of woman did she become
Did
her aspirations bear fruit?
Or
did she muddle through the years like all of us
Best
not to know probably
The
truth might diminish the memory
Of
sweet young Janice
I
set the box aside and rummage deeper
I
come to another box and look inside
It’s
full of photos of long forgotten friends
And
souvenirs of a day trip to France
When
we had to carry John back to the boat
I
laughed to myself
Beneath
that box was a party invitation
The
party where I first met Fiona
A
beautiful girl in a woman’s body
Who
chose me despite a host of suitors
And
we danced into the night
Her
firm body pressed against mine
Arms
clinging tightly to me
Her
breath against my neck
In
full view of envious eyes
And
later in passionate embrace
Just
the two of us in the darkness
I
paused briefly at the memory and sighed
Then
delved deeper into the box
Where
Beneath the invitation was an envelope
I
opened it tipping out its contents
Half
a dozen photos and a Wimbledon program
Fell
into my lap, I turned over the top photo
And
Yvonne’s sweet face
Smiled
at me from a discoloured print
I
recalled the day instantly
It
was at Wimbledon long long ago
She
had begged me to take her
I
liked tennis but I liked her more so I agreed
Suddenly
I could smell her
And
hear the infectious little giggle
And
feel her touch on my skin
Her
lips on mine
The
memory of the day was so vivid
And
of the days of unbridled passion that followed
When
the wonders of her soft body
Were
yielded to me
Then
I put everything back into the box
And
left the dusty confines of the attic
I
returned to my armchair
And
continued in my reflection
My
searching had left me feeling both happy and sad
Happy
at the rekindled memories
Sad
because they were only that
Happy
to have experienced them
And
sad because I would never again
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