In the attic, rafters slacking,
Slightly slumped from careless stacking,
Dated with newspaper packing,
Standing in a row...
Cardboard boxes filled with treasures
Gleaned from passing childhood pleasures,
Labeled with the age it measures
From her life below...
...Outside, it starts to snow.
Down the stairs, her parents sitting—
He with nothing, she with knitting,
In their silence, both submitting
To their empty nest...
Spread before them, worn and tattered,
Travel folders loosely scattered,
Saved from times when leisure mattered
And their patience stressed...
...Oh, how those days were blessed!
In the hall, a phone is ringing
Without hint of what it’s bringing;
Voices drone, then joyous singing
Overwhelms their hearts...
In the spring, new life is coming!
Phone replaced by fingers numbing,
Tarnished heartstrings begin thrumming,
...Inside, redemption starts…
Bursting with anticipation
O’er the sudden proclamation,
Suddenly, an inclination
Sparkles in their eyes...
To the attic, almost sprinting,
Past discarded, future glinting,
Travel folders need reprinting
...A Disneyland surprise?
Boxes tossed, the quest proceeding,
Dust unsettled, years receding,
Seeking help they will be needing
From their lives before...
Flaps dismembered, shredded wrappings,
Fond recountings, flawed recappings,
Strewn throughout the youthful trappings
On the attic floor...
...Mere memories no more.
Plush companions stuffed with cotton,
Bedtime stories long forgotten,
Blessings given, others gotten,
Wrapped in angel’s wings...
Down the stairs, the couple dances,
Sharing grins and knowing glances;
Thus, the wheel of life advances
From each joy it brings...
...Outside, a robin sings.
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