The Good Old Days

at the rear of the house stands a box room

the room contains a bookshelf full of creased books,
a desk that my pal Bill and I built together more than twenty years ago,
a filing cabinet and an Amstrad computer that still works,
some old school briefcases, the sort that pre-date briefcases with the combination code locks.

the box room, admittedly tatty, functions as a type of sanctuary for me, enabling me to gather my thoughts in quiet.

once a trio of old mates came over  
we spent the entire night cramped in this tiny room, sharing a bottle of whisky and playing cards while Bill recited poetry in a slurred voice, causing the rest of us to cry with laughter
Written by Lozzamus
Author's Note
Purely fictional
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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