BRACKETS

A sonnet

I’ve rediscovered these – a pair of brackets 

Brass, lying loose in our utility room 

In this house, they’re something we don’t lack, it’s 

Two boys clamber, but their doom’s 

To do it in the dark and dust; they climb 

At ever easeful play, perhaps adventure 

Fixed in brass, their heedless golden time 

Is spent intrinsic to the infrastructure   

Only dust and darkness to support 

Let’s find some polish, screws, a piece of timber 

Let them serve a purpose and cavort 

If all who carried burdens looked so limber  

An honourable shelf, and dare I utter 

For things of use and beauty, but no clutter. 

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