Both of these are part of my collection but there meaning has been greatly applified by the loss of my youngest son.
The first is actually a discription and impressions of my grandparents bedroom. The second of their big old chests in the attic full of stuff. I now have a special chest for things that were special to my son Ryan. Copyright... 1991
DAYS GONE BY
Piercing thru the morning mist,
Light enters her silent room,
Passing lace curtains of antiquity,
Yellowing under layers of dust,
A reminder of days gone by.
The wicker rocker sits still,
Facing the window and the street below,
White paint chipping away,
Revealing varied hand painted hues,
A reminder of days gone by.
Neatly folded and draped,
A shawl lays upon the rockers back,
Lovingly made thru tears of pain,
With gnarled and twisted fingers,
A reminder of days gone by.
Framed photographs, black and white,
Faded in age, yet ageless in youth,
Staring into emptyness,
With eyes of uncertainty and doubt,
All reminders of days gone by.
MEMORIES
Memories.
Packed in a trunk.
Hidden,
In a dark attic.
Thoughts and dreams.
Hopes and accomplishments.
Collecting dust,
Through neglect
Only....very seldom,
To be seen again.
By the flick of a switch.
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