I climb into the attic
for a few musty minutes
with my cache gathered
over the years. School
photos, Mother’s Day
cards made by hand,
child’s uniforms,
photos, Mother’s Day
cards made by hand,
child’s uniforms,
toys of a little boy.
Our lives now garnered
in the attic, all of it
history now.
13 comments:
"Our lives now garnered
in the attic". I love this line. Our minds are our attics and museums! Thank you for your comment on my poem.
margo
What a great history, eh? It's so bittersweet watching them grow. Mine are teenagers now, and the letting go has begun. *sigh* I love your use of musty minutes. Well done!
~Brenda
You did a great job with the prompt. You make me want to visit an attic and seek out the history hidden there. ☼
The attic does hold so much of our lives, Judy. Nicely put.
Pamela
Your last line works really well somehow - 'history now', a great end to a poem.
Thanks.
Matthew
The passing of the years, cataloged in treasure boxes: worthless and priceless.
Special memories may be musty, but still worth mulling over. Lovely.
Lovely mementos..how important the attic even if relegated to history.
Hi Judy, I know what you mean. I remember many nights of sitting in the attic looking through boxes of memories....mustiness all around! Well expressed thoughts here.
It may be "history now" but the speaker of the poem still climbed up there for those "musty minutes" - that's what I like best about this poem.
nice attic.....nice words.....thanks for sharing
Lovely. Yes, I must get into the attic again to rediscover the lost world.
Judy - so lovely and sad at the same time. You really wrote a powerful piece. I feel the need to hold my ladybug. Hugs to you.
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