FOUND IN THE ATTIC

There was a complaint from a devolved nation,
a faded cricket bat from someone called Ranganathan,
poems by the score saying what's less was more,
no results so someone was just left feeling sore.

An old ceramic pot which was found in a middle eastern desert,
covered in cobwebs, knew its value if you were alert,
that pot was more like an Aladdin's lamp covered gold,
could tell you salacious stories so they were told.

All your old dreams seemed to be leaning on the wall,
failed relationships gone thro' the ringer with no recall,
you blew dust off them, they turned sideways, looked down,
perhaps you should realize you weren't the smartest in town.

Others could have used these attributes, there was no jealousy,
so think more carefully before you over-fabricate mystery.