Your messy garage was a fort,
a haven and a dusty adventure,
one I can venture that you had to lure me out of many times.
“Don’t go in there!”
I had to be aware because it was just so dangerous to climb.

My mountain, my mission,
a tomb of treasures, I couldn’t just decline,
to dig and to deep dive into the piles,
even though what was there wasn’t mine by miles.

Out of time, but that was fine.

I never took or moved things,
just observed and wondered –
Why is it all there in the first place?
The clothes, the boxes, the fear of foxes
getting into your belongings.
It had me wondering –

Why did you need to keep it?
What was the dusty secret?

It looked like more than you could ever manage,
but I really, truly loved your messy garage.