The Wheelchair Poem by Daegal

I went into the loft today, where the
Spiders and mice are kings and queens, and light
Is scarcely a natural thing. The night

Had long-since gone, but knowing that daytime
Was just outside did nothing to quench my
Fear of irrational beasts. My throat dry,

My palms wet, the ladder shaking ‘neath me,
I climbed and I climbed into the darkness.
Groping for a switch to light the distress

Of shadows which lurked above my bedroom,
I illuminated the room, and found
The wheelchair where my grandad would sit, drowned

By the waves of time and smoky trails which
Kept the memories lashed to the chair so
That broken pictures of that good man could not go.

End.