Love Letters in the Attic
(modern glosa)
But, ah! My dream is broken by a step upon the stair,
And the door is softly opened--and my wife is standing there;
Yet with eagerness and rapture all my vision I resign,--
To greet the living presence of that old sweetheart of mine.
(from 'An Old Sweetheart of Mine' by James Whitcomb Riley)
One dark and dreary winter's day I find, to my delight,
A box of letters I had saved from many years ago.
I carefully retrieve each one, paper no longer white,
And read the words of my sweetheart. Oh, I had loved her so!
Her vision it returns to me mid attic's dusty air,
But, ah! My dream is broken by a step upon the stair.
Ah, would it be that it were she, came back out of the past
To once more stand before me now, this girl that I adored.
I'm lost once more in reverie, my heart is beating fast,
I hear the melodies she played upon the harpsichord.
I close my eyes and see her there, the girl of auburn hair,
And the door is softly opened, and--my wife is standing there.
She looks at me, says not a word, her eyes stray to the pile
Of brittle yellowed letters that lay spread across my lap,
And emotions overcome her as fades slowly her sweet smile,
And she stoops and takes up in her hand one small delinquent scrap.
Oh, I've been caught red-handed in remembering that time,
Yet with eagerness and rapture all my vision I resign.
She holds the paper gingerly, she sees the faded pen,
And teardrops form within her eyes and drop upon the page.
She reads each word that's writ thereon, then reads them once again,
Then slowly lifts her eyes to mine--I watch my vision age.
And eagerly I lift myself, step back to present time,
To greet the living presence of that old sweetheart of mine.
© 2008 Linda Newman (All rights reserved)