A Mission In The Mansard

Like forgotten photographs

In the attic, it resides in 

Seclusion, heed never

Paid despite its worth.

It remains in a soiled box,

Seen, but never regarded;

Shifted and neglected

Whilst in search of

Forgotten memories.

Time fades into the black,

Yet it still remains 

Sequestered,

Ever to be disremembered

And disregarded like a

Vagabond of the garret.