Echoes In The Attic Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

In the attic of memories, where shadows dance and play
A trunk overflowing with whispers, of yesterday
Forgotten fragrances waft, like wisps of smoke and sighs
As I rummage through the remnants, of love and goodbyes

A faded photograph, like a fallen leaf, crumbles to dust
Revealing the contours of a face, I thought I'd lost
My grandmother's gentle eyes, like moonlit summer skies
Sparkle with a love so pure, it pierces the disguise

Her hands, like worn leather gloves, soft and supple as a prayer
Guided mine, as we'd weave tales, of myth and whispered care
In the silence, our hearts beat, like a pair of wings in flight
As the wind whispers secrets, of a love that shone like a guiding light

In this attic of memories, where echoes roam and sigh
I find the pieces of my heart, like shards of a shattered sky
Mending them, like a quilt, with threads of love and tears
I'll weave a tapestry of memories, through all the passing years

As I close the trunk, like a chapter, in the book of life
I know that love remains, a flame that burns, a beacon in the strife
For in the attic of memories, where shadows dance and play
I've found the love that stays, come what may.