|
2001-06-25 - 2:14 a.m. Hiding in the attic dusty & dim with one small window at either end. Boxes of memories here and there. Memories to cherish and to grieve. Why am I afraid to leave? A bird upon the window sill asked why are you sitting still within this room so dimly lit. I tried, but could not answer it. This is the attic squeaked a mouse full of memories strewn about. Watch oh, watch the butterflies dancing in the sun. Leave the attic little one. Down the stairs and through the hall, past the clock upon the wall. Cross the threshold, out the door and into the Garden go.
|
