Attic
The lights have been turned on
in the attic
Someone has flipped the switch
exposing
cobwebs, caster oil, crutches
newsprint and cheap china
Which I'm hesitant to touch
least it falls apart in my hands or
cracks like the blue Robin eggs
I once tried to store in my pocket.
I know I should begin cleaning
but I dread the cobwebs
and I'm allergic to the dust (I tell myself)
that's been layering for fifty years
Undisturbed
I am
Disturbed
by the invention of
long lasting light bulbs, showing me around
no, they wont burn out anytime soon
and I will open a window
letting in the city sounds
that drown out the adults
fighting downstairs
distracting me from my chores.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
