The Attic Of Memories
Once upon a time there was a little girl. She used to dream of when she would grow into a beautiful woman and
find a handsome young man to marry and he would look after her and give her the gift of children and good memories.
Her house would be set in a large pretty garden with roses and all sorts of lovely plants and bushes and the house would
be large enough to fill with happy children and great memories.
Now as she sits in her house which has grown old and frail and is ready to be demolished to make way for
other more attractive houses, the attic of her mind holds many treasures and many boxes that haven't been opened
for a long time.
She opens one of the boxes in the attic of her mind and finding it painful looks at the shattered memory of a
picture she now holds. A tear drop splashes the picture and her once slender fingers, now shriveled with years
pace tenderly across the face of a man who went off to war to fight for righteousness and freedom.
He has stood still in time and is still handsome and young. She, old and weary. Time has stored many
attic memories for her. She lies beside him and closes her tired eyes. He comes to meet her and is astonished
by her beauty. He takes her slender hand and whispers in her ear. . . My love --- let's talk.
Author unknown to Attic Trinkets. |
