The Attic

A ray of gold

Streams through the dark

Stirring the dust

and and ancient mem'ries

Now trapped within

faded pictures

And dusty dreams

Still.

The dreams linger on

Never forgotten

Of long-ago laughter

Fame, fortune, and fear.

odd, foreign spices,

The softest of silks

All abide here

In the spotlight

of once-has-been

Grandma

Wrinkled with the early morn

Greyed with toils qui'tly born

Soft hands patch each jacket torn

Bright eyes that twinkle and warn;

to smile softly,

to laugh loudly,

always forgive,

never forget

those that moved on

Before.