Tear

There is a tear in an old wedding dress
Hidden away in a box in the attack,
Covered in cobwebs,
And collecting dust.
The dress is carefully lifted from it tissue paper tomb
To be admired by the grandchildren
Who trace it’s silken edges with their fingers
They hold it up to their chest 
And imagine what it would be like
To wear it.
The grandmother eyes the tear with distaste
She gently brushes off the cobwebs
And vows to repair the hole.
Somehow she will never get around to it.
The grandchildren are easily distracted,
They are more interested in the moose antlers
Hung on the wall,
And the large half covered painting of a naked woman.
Soon they run back down stairs,
The novelty of the attic beginning to wear off.
The grandmother watches them leave,
A weary smile on her face
She kneels in the dust of the attic,
As she pulls the faded dress to her chest.
Tears fall on the dress in the attic.



4/13/2023
Writing Challenge "T" words
Constance La France

childhooddeathgrandchildgrandmotherifree verse

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