The Attic Poem by Phil Soar

The attic held a million memories
In boxes, stacked on shelves in piles of threes
What wonders opening each would bring to mind
What old and magic things we were to find

Left in this space among the spiders haunts
The sounds of sibling rivalry and taunts
And each a box of years of happiness
Just sitting in this attic in a mess

We sat, reminded of our childhood days
Photographs emerged of our school plays
And tales we wrote in Diaries of school pranks
Letters hoarded when we'd written 'thanks'

Our thoughts turned to the family we once knew
At times we held a very different view
But now faced with these boxes, we concur
The contents are the people we once were