Dusted MemoriesA Poem by Judy PoncebyWord Bricks from my friend Frank :)
Sitting in this dusty old attic
listening to the shingles flapping in the wind I flip through a dog-eared book from my childhood. As I'm skipping through the pages, I look up and notice the fine inlaid carpentry work of an old chest. Going over, leaving imprints on the floor I lift the lid. With reptilian slowness a lazy fat spider edges away. Inside this trove of ancient treasure, magnificent finds of days gone by. Mementos of a honeymoon, a parachute jump. Gramma's best biscuit recipe. A photo of Sam the hound with spittle running down his jowls. A picture of a babe at his mother's n****e. A permutation of these tucked away articles give meaning to a life well and truly lived. Closing the pages of these treasures I wander away to watch my grandchildren make memories of their own.
© 2011 Judy PoncebyAuthor's Note
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Added on September 9, 2011Last Updated on September 9, 2011 Previous Versions AuthorJudy PoncebySwanton, OHAboutI am me. Living life. Learning love. And laughing. A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom. – Robert Frost more..Writing
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