Echoes in the Attic

In the attic of memories, where shadows dance and play A trunk overflowing with whispers, of yesterday Forgotten fragrances waft, like wisps of smoke and sighs As I rummage through the remnants, of love and goodbyes A faded photograph, like a fallen leaf, crumbles to dust Revealing the contours of a face, I thought I'd lost My grandmother's gentle eyes, like moonlit summer skies Sparkle with a love so pure, it pierces the disguise Her hands, like worn leather gloves, soft and supple as a prayer Guided mine, as we'd weave tales, of myth and whispered care In the silence, our hearts beat, like a pair of wings in flight As the wind whispers secrets, of a love that shone like a guiding light In this attic of memories, where echoes roam and sigh I find the pieces of my heart, like shards of a shattered sky Mending them, like a quilt, with threads of love and tears I'll weave a tapestry of memories, through all the passing years As I close the trunk, like a chapter, in the book of life I know that love remains, a flame that burns, a beacon in the strife For in the attic of memories, where shadows dance and play I've found the love that stays, come what may. ©bfa031125