The door creaks rarely opened 

resisted by uncared for hinges

To expose artifacts awaiting

tomorrow's fond reanimation

Dust floats in stasis caught 

Within a shaft of errant sun

Through a fly specked window

Illuminating this random ruck

Of prior lives which sits in

Neglected wistful suspension

These are best left silent in

Contemplative repose

Anticipating metamorphic change

As the door is slowly closed