From the trains the museum finds me
No other plans I wander in tiredly
Behind perspex boxes were dolls and old toys
Puppets in costumes, dresses for girls, suits for boys
Marble in games, glass in figures, wood in boards,
Strings tired together, wire plucking cords,
Paint sets and microscopes, playfullness in hope
How much for these memories?
No price I’m afraid,
Everything is exchanged,
Your box for cars, scars for tough knees,
Your bears for cares, small bottles for eathenware,
These thing you cannot touch
But look on them for however much
Admission is always free.
Momuments for dead things are not always good
But sometimes sad reminders of what museums
Are made from childhood.
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