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The Cubby Hole Room by Maureen Glaude
This house has a secret escape
tucked away
full of all the atmosphere
of an old tree fort
or an attic loft
but found on the main level
easily accessed
once discovered
but you tend to bang your head
if you forget to stoop a bit
there's no light fixture wired in its ceiling
so a flashlight, or snakelight's recommended
to carry in with you
the contractor added the space-saver
roomy enough to be a small annex
to the renovation designs
when the second story was added
to the forty-odd year-old bungalow
some call it the stairway room
it has a little door
inside, the unit's L-shaped
has a new hardwood floor
not marred like some strips
of the main traffic rooms'
cause it doesn't get much wear
within it are stored the bric-a-brac
of seasonal paraphernalia
hanging skeletons, plastic pumpkins,
Christmas tree skirt and stands
wrapping paper and lightbulbs
general mix and match
the wrapped piece of plywood
that the Christmas tree rests on
and before that, the real pumpkin
to go into the window
tucked in the aisle, there's even a bag
from a big party years ago
St.Pat's decorations
bright green leprechauns with pipes
and sometimes if you're in there
you can hear thumps, scratches and scurries
threatening overhead
or rushing across planks
mice, ghosts, or burglars, you say?
no, just the dog, cat or fellow humans
making their ways upstairs
or down
stomping over you
the best perk of this room?
it's better than the bath
or the old cottage outhouse
once you go in to work or snoop
or rearrange
it's like you've landed in another world
a sort of C.S. Lewis Wardrobe land
and all the people in your house
quite lose track of you
for a few moments you've gone AWOL
you may be tempted to stretch the stay
feigning no summons heard or questions asked
from there
in the room called
the cubby hole
10/28/2001 Posted on 11/05/2003 Copyright © 2025 Maureen Glaude
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 11/06/03 at 02:22 PM Dear AWOL, what an evocative picture you paint. Gees... I was in that little space with you... in the midst of memories and the implied invitation to be in the now, in the moment, away from the busyness of life. The narrative form of the poem flows so nicely and gives me permission to write such a poem myself. Thanks, Maureen. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 11/08/03 at 01:54 PM Yes indeed. Everyone needs an escape such as this from time to time. I may not have a cubby hole room, but I suppose my basement acts in the same manner, stocked with its own kinds of memorabelia. |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 11/12/03 at 05:23 AM Great poem Mo. It sounds like our two level
head banging attic....Charlie |
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