Is just beneath the shell.
Moving house is metamorphic
I have spun myself into a cocoon
The tattered hoardings of yesteryear.
Bittersweet letters of first love lost
Unread for a quarter century,
Posters of bands long defunct,
Shelves of books read,
Bus tickets, bar coasters, keys, id cards
Ephemeral jetsetting tokens,
Lecture notes no longer understood,
Apparrel from the 'Tus Mall' and 'Neverin' ranges,
Embarrassing diaries with secret marks
Plotting dietary battles,
Hand me down furnishings and near antiques.
Vinyl, CDs, instruments
Every recording we ever made
As alternative now as ever,
Paice Ave doodle book,
Poems, paintings, gifts, tools,
My collection of children
Two and two thirds to date,
Aging address books
Top drawer contents
Useful, required on occasion,
Non fiction and gardening magazines
More reliable than the web,
Complete scifi works of Phillip K Dick,
Wings need to harden
Before they stretch and fly.