grandma’s attic

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“grandma’s attic,” New Era, Aug. 1987, 28

grandma’s attic

my step on a creaking stair

blends with the insistent rain

pattering roof, splattering window

calling me up.

muted tones, basking in half-light

from the lonely, naked bulb

swinging in silence.

i kneel by a trunk

reverently shaking memories from ancient dresses,

reading them in yellowed letters,

putting them on with a faded, fragile hat.

dusty dreams of long ago

take me captive into their world

play on the stage of my mind.

“if only things could speak,” think i,

“what stories could be had!”

yet silence reigns in this kingdom

with only dark and musty musings

to bring the past to life.