To the attic I do climb.
To sift through the memories of time.
Footprints left upon the dusty stairs.
A musty scent fills the air.
Through the rustic oak door I do peer.
Glancing at my reflection, in grandmothers antique mirror.
Lifting the lid on the old cedar chest.
Upon the patchwork quilt, the family bible does rest.
Pictures of the days of old.
Years of memories do unfold.
Grandpa with his fishing pole.
And Grandma in her camisole.
Embraced in their memory of yesterdays.
It's hard to believe it's been ten years today.
In the silence the old grandfather clock does chime.
As I look at the pictures, I hold, one more time.
Tears running down my face...I gently put them back in place.
Carefully shutting the lid on the old cedar chest.
I take the picture of Grandpa and Grandma I like best.
