Memories up in the Attic

by AlfredSymon

  • Poetry
  • Narrative

Published December 17, 2011

In Her

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Hello readers! Before reading the poem, I would like to tell you thank you for lending you're time into reading this piece. If ever you liked it, please comment on it and tell something about it. If there a re concerns you would like me to know like grammar and such, please comment also. And if you did like the poem please click Like on the post and tell you're friends about it, I would gladly appreciate it. Truly everyone's, Al.

To all who read 'Wait 'til Time Sparks', please read this spoiler. If you haven't, read and comment on it now! TopicID: 91431

Spoiler! :
I still haven't forgotten her. I know she read my letter up there, but that's not enough to satisfy me. I remembered the box of trinkets we hid in the attic. And in my desperation and longing for her, I climbed up the stairs and opened the box of memories.



1 I went up the attic one afternoon
In search of something to while my day.
When I dusted here and there
I found myself a box of gray.

2 A thin layer of what seems like ash
Blanketed the box’s carton flaps.
I opened it; lint drifted all around
In its inner darkness are tiny gaps.

3 Each hole is a puzzle piece
That makes one life whole.
With a trembling arm, I reached for them,
She’ll last, if only time was not as cruel.

4 These are what I saw inside:
Trinkets of red and blue,
Gems and jewels; shattered, they were
Her linens which lost their hue,
Letters I never had sent,
Ribbons and laces that tied her braid,
Nickels and quarters we had once bent,
Vividly realistic flowers she cared for
(I never told her they were plastic),
A cherub figurine that heals the heart’s sore,
Beach towels drizzled with sand,
Parasols sewn with lace, colored white,
The flute she used in our two-man band,
And the few novels that kept her alive,
Sadly, they were never enough
To help her survive.

5 I’d rather close the box
Than to see everything she left.
The tiny puzzle pieces;
The cruel things that made such heft.

6 These are the memories she left me,
Little things that made me whole.
And now that I saw them again,
I remembered that I was a fool.

7 I hold onto her, tightly but gently
Within these lost treasures,
I am sure we’ll meet again,
Someday in the land of all pleasures.

Comments & reviews · 4
User avatar
catslikebooks2
Review
catslikebooks2 wrote a review Review · Dec 17, 2011

I really like this poem! It has a flow to it that's.......different. I love the part describing the contents of the box! It very vivid, maybe even more so because of the colored words, but they were kind of distracting for me...as for the rest of the poem the concepts are well developed and and rich in imagery in metaphors that envelope the reader in the story. The ending is sad, but it does bring some closure, which is way better than some open ended one. This poem is eloquently written and a very nice read, well done.

User avatar
samii27
Review
samii27 wrote a review Review · Dec 17, 2011

There are few poems on this website that bring out such emotion as your has done for me. Sitting here reading that now has bought tears to my eyes. You have used beautiful words and lines that capture the readers attention and heart. Right from the very first line you drew me in with your powerful words.
I found no problem with this poem. It was very moving and none of your lines were confusing or just put there to rhyme with the other line.
I look forward to reading future works of yours and past ones too.
Keep writing! :)

User avatar
SwallowedByInsanity
Review
SwallowedByInsanity wrote a review Review · Dec 17, 2011

i've got to say, I really admire your poetry, it has such flow to it and a flowery kind of imagery that pulls the reader in. I'd also like to mention that your different uses of color really add to the piece as well. I loved "Wait til' time sparks"!

alfredsymon wrote:7 I hold onto her, tightly but gently
Within these lost treasures,
I am sure we’ll meet again,
Someday in the land of all pleasures.

An excellent way to end the poem! That last line really brings the entirety of it to a close, and I'm eager to read more of your works (:
Keep writing!



The things you are passionate about are not random, they are your calling.
— Fabienne Fredrickson