The Grief of Dust

When days gone past

old memorys fade

youll forget the things softly whispered.

The years roll by

sunrise , sunset

why would things change?

ill be there always

A thought on occassions

when you feel like sharing

upstaire in the attic ,

in dusty old albums

my faded photograph

 

Reviews

[syriascat]

so nostaglic and very deep

yours truly
syria

Awww, this is a sad poem. It reminds me of all of my old stuffed animals and drawings from when I was younger that are in the basement, because we don't have an attic. And it reminds me of parents wishing their kids would never grow up. Good write.