The basement was a refuge,
A place to play hide and seek.
In hot summer months, the cool concrete,
Granted us sweet relief.
The piano was old and out of tune,
You could still plunk many a melody.
The four square marks by masking tape,
Made for game that were unique.
When the storm sirens would blow,
The basement would shelter us,
Beneath the stairs we would stay.
The sleeping bags for camping out,
Indoors where we would play.
Laundry was done in the basement,
Dad’s tools lined the workbench wall.
Storage of suitcases, old photographs,
Baby clothes from our first days.
The basement was for us many things,
A memory not gone away.
2 thoughts on “The Basement”
Nice details. The smells took me there. Cool concrete. Laundry. Tools. Mustiness, no? Or maybe I’m imposing my own memories. Thank you for taking me there.
Thanks! There probably was mustiness, though the strongest memories were in the change of temperature, the piano, and laundry.