The Whispering Attic….


 

“The Whispering Attic” invites you to ascend the creaking stairs of memory, past cobwebs clinging to forgotten corners.

Push open the dusty door and step into a realm where life whispers secrets in our hearts.

Here, memories dance in fractured light, a symphony of echoes exploring the weight of the past, the echoes of love and loss, and the lingering question: is this the sum of all they’ve known?


 

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The attic of my mind, cobwebs cling to dusty beams,
A creak of the aged floor I tread, a journey down memory’s streams.
Sunlight, a fractured prism, paints faces on the wall,
Loved ones lost, their echoes sigh, a bittersweet enthrall.

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Laughter’s ghost, a wispy chime, of barefoot days and scraped-up knees,
Fields of endless green, a maze, where childhood wove its fantasies.
Fireflies, like fallen stars, blinked secrets in the night,
A world unseen by grown-up eyes, bathed in an ethereal light.

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Love’s melody, a haunting tune, a touch that sent a shiver down,
First kisses whispered ‘neath the moon, a promise on love’s hallowed ground.
Castles built on shifting sand, with youthful dreams we dared to hold,
Do the tides still wash upon that land, where stories never could unfold?

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Victories, like distant drums, a fading echo on the breeze,
Goals achieved, the race we’d run, beneath the rustling autumn trees.
But shadows lurk in memory’s hold, regrets that whisper on the wind,
Did we choose the path of purest gold, or leave the better part behind?

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Life’s chapters, scattered on the floor, some stained with sunshine, some with tears,
Down memory lane, I walk once more, the harvest of my bygone years.
The rain falls soft, a lullaby, on weathered skin and silvered hair,
These whispers in my heart still lie, a lingering echo, ever there.

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Is this the sum of all I’ve known? A life well-worn, perhaps complete?
Or threads yet waiting to be sewn, a chance for futures bittersweet,
To mend the rips and fraying ends, and weave a story that transcends,
With threads of hope, still yet unseen.

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2 responses to “The Whispering Attic….”

  1. your writing is aging like fine wine…every line is redolent with your the sweet ache of your varied experiences seen through a sensitive heart and expressed in liquid rhyme that flows like honey over a comforting bunch of delicious pancakes.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. WoWsie! Your comment deserves a standing ovation. I can see that I have serious competition here. Thank you.

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