The Attic’s Serenade
A poem
A poem
Dust-veiled reminiscences,
Muffled whispers seep
from forgotten corners.
A rag doll’s sightless gaze,
her yarn smile unravelling
tales of nursery rhymes,
and tiny hands that loved her once.
A tattered book’s pages rustle,
like brittle leaves recounting
adventures inked across
Its feathered spine.
Worlds explored, memories made,
now entombed in cobwebbed stanzas.
An old trunk exhales
wooden secrets.
Grandma’s handwritten recipes,
love letters bound by faded ribbons,
a pressed rose cradling
the ghost of a bygone fragrance.
Listen closely,
Beyond the attic’s murmur
you’ll hear them,
abandoned mementos
whispering to be remembered,
begging for their stories
to find new life,
cradled in the warmth
of imaginings reborn.
In the hollows of their silence,
objects forsaken breathe
Antiquated lullabies,
melodies of existence
once cherished,
now echoing to awaken
our own forgotten reveries.
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