Sorrow is a quiet attic…
Lightly dusted photo albums containing
Pictures of ones lost,
Sit on the top wooden shelf
Just waiting for someone to remember
The moments captured.
An old Halloween costume in the bottom of the plastic bin
Contained with baby clothes to be passed down to grand children
That never came.
A rusty ‘ol fan weak from being used during
All those late summer nights before
Technology caught up with society.
The white wedding dress delicately sown with
Tiny beads, lays in a box contained with the
Remembrance of the young girl’s day that
He promised
Forever and always…
But ended in regrets and forgets.
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1 comment:
"sorrow is a quiet attic"
that's a great way to start the poem off since it gives me the image of my own attic and you convey the "sorrowful vibe" since attics are typically dusty, forgotten only during holidays, and the fact that they store away things of somewhat less importance.
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