The Dark Attic

 

The dark attic, the bearer of stillness….

The frost glazed, glass window hung high, etched by days of ice and wind…

My windows are a looking mirror, into the seasons of the past.

A summer storm, finds my love and I on cool board and quilt of down…a secret place.

Autumn sunshine reaches long on cinnamon dust rays; exposing web and spider, the old letter and the broken chain of an old silver charm.

A winter’s eve, the long awaited visitor returns collecting jeweled treasures of glass and wood; forgotten but not lost.

A tree will shine with all its glory under the dark attic.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: