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
In a love story that was covered with age
The dress and the veil that my grandmother wore
Old pictures and love letters, dated back to the war
A music box that plays, "I'll be seeing you,"
While the question attached made her dreams come true
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
On the back wall hangs a wooden sled
The headboard and rails of an old brass bed
A pair of ice skates and a large stuffed bear
And old fishing rods, all hung with care
How does one, discard memories into a pile
So, the boxes stay stacked at least for a while
Not found as bargains set out on the grass
But, up in the attic as part of my past
I stood and took one last look around
Walked to the stairs and started back down
Did something strange happen to me up there?
Before, I never recalled a smile on that bear
@Barbara Cox
