Cobwebs

Cobwebs I climb the creaky stairs into the attic And survey the clutter through a filtered light That peeks dimly through the grimy window Settling on the cobwebs that abound I see a chest that I had long forgotten I kneel, lift it's lid, and look inside Maternity clothes stored in anticipation Of expectations that were never met I open up a dusty old container Revealing records that we used to play Performed by names now a part of history Songs, much like their makers, cast aside Albums stacked on albums sit together Black and white memories stored inside Pictures wrapped in books of cracking leather Attesting to the world of yesterday On a nail a uniform is hanging The glint of tarnished brass on the lapels A tribute to a time our country beckoned And our youth went off to join another war I look around and view all of my treasures Of little value but perhaps to me All the stories to be recollected A storehouse of the world of used to be Slowly I retreat back down the stairway And savor the nostalgia of the past But a piece of me remains up in the attic Where time is frozen and captured years still dwell