Treasures in the attic
I went to the attic,
And opened the door,
there were old boxes,
stacked,
Up on the floor
winter had passed,
And it was now spring
with rags and a bucket,
I started to clean
A life time of memories,
And treasures of time
up in the attic,
Out of sight,
Out of mind
each box, each trunk,
Representing a page
a story,
That was covered with age
I found
A rose pressed gently,
In a book of poems
inside a beaded handbag,
A set of silver combs
a porcelain doll,
With a painted face
Dressed all in satin,
With bows and old lace
I saw a red tricycle,
Turned over on its side;
How many years, I wondered,
since my mom
Had a ride
I found the beautiful dress,
She wore on her wedding day,
beneath it,
Wrapped in tissue,
Is a wax-preserved bouquet.
All special treasures
From the past
Things that were my moms
That I kept when she
Passed
Things, my mom treasured
When she was a child
Now they have aged
With time
Yet, they hold,
special memories
For me
Of her lifetime
How does one discard?
Memories into a pile
so, the boxes will stay stacked,
At least for a while
not found as bargains,
Set out on the grass
But, up in my attic,
As part of my past
My Mom,
has been gone
for many years
I think of her
and still my eyes
fill up
with tears
I still miss her
after all
these years
Anything goes challenge
By badmac
© 2009 badmac
(All rights reserved)
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