(A visit to C.S. Lewis' childhood wardrobe at the Wade Center at Wheaton College)
The black oak wardrobe with
Intricate wood carving by his grandfather
Bears a sign which reads:
“We do not take responsibility for people disappearing.”
This is no mere piece of furniture;
Enchantment hangs within
Among the furs and cloaks
Smelling faintly of mothballs.
Touch the smooth wood,
Open the doors barely
To be met with a faint cool breeze~
Hints of snowy woods and adventure.
Reach inside to feel smooth soft furs
Move aside to allow dark passage
Through to another world, a pathway to
Cherished imagination of the soul.
Follow the path to feel the mists of the moors,
Hear honks of cabbies in Piccadilly,
Taste the gardens of Beatrix Potter,
And swim the icy lochs of Scotland.
Here are tall white cliffs
And there are stern henges of stone
Echoing within expansive cathedrals and Roman ruins,
All mystery, ancestry and history together.
Seek a destination for mind and heart,
A journey through the wardrobe,
Navigate the night path to reach a
Lit lone lamp post in the wood.
Beaming light as it shines undimmed,
A beacon calling us home, back home
Through the open door, to step out transformed,
No longer lost or longing, now found and filled.
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