Within A Faded Attic Of The Mind Poem by Roy Ballard

Within a faded attic of the mind
I stood and found it dusty with despair,
with dry, dead leaves on flowers left behind,
with bleaching furniture and half-drawn blinds…
and then I thought saw you standing there
within this faded attic of the mind.

I saw you there but words I could not find;
too many words had flown and left me bare,
like dry, dead leaves on flowers left behind.
You called my name and whispered something kind;
your cherished voice sang in the arid air
within a faded attic of the mind.

Within this place I found myself confined
to be a thing a wilted stem could bear,
a dry, dead leaf on flowers left behind,
a fruitless bud that never did unwind
for vanished seasons left it hanging there,
within a faded attic of the mind.