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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Shadowed in the silent room, the daylight's nearly gone Dusk climbs in through window glass, with one last ray of sun I start the task, climb on a chair, reach up to shelves so high to mother's boxes neatly stacked, and dust gets in my eyes I take one down, to look inside and sit upon a chair I find some musty linens, laces needing some repair Discovering old photographs, the year was '42 Her face was smooth as porcelain, unblemished, young and new Old documents and letters, a history unveiled Her letters, torn and yellowed, such stories they would tell The next box held small china cups, so lovingly embellished And then I found a book of verse, inscribed with poems she relished Some dresses stained and wrinkled, their fabric thin and tattered Were once a thing of beauty, as if they really mattered Her jewelry, gold and silver, some lovely rings and brooches A warm sensation circles me, her presence now approaches I sense a change come over me, and fleeting leave of gloom The darkness of the evening lifts, as sunlight fills the room She wraps her warmth around me, her fragrance in the air My loneliness is free to go, I know that she is there Among these things, I find the last, the smallest box of all Inside it are the baby clothes, I wore when I was small A letter there to tell me that she knows the tears I've cried Her words of love that never died, they fill me up inside These treasures speak her words to me, and now that I am grown She wants to tell her story, those parts I've never known I've heard her voice, while sitting here, among her china flowers I"ve found such peace, she's next to me, to spend these quiet hours ____________________________________________________________ Written 6/8/2008 Submitted to Contest: "Old Jewelry or Just Old Things or Old, Old Poems/Poetry Contest " Sponsor: Broken Wings
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