The Attic

The Attic

       This past Mother’s Day 2012, I wrote this poem for my mom.  I don’t claim to be a poet- I’m better at writing novels- but I like to give it a try every once and a while.  This poem is actually an analogy of life with a lot of symbolism related to life’s journey.  Give it some thought and see if you can decipher the meanings of the hidden symbols.  Enjoy! 

The old door creaked on its hinges now rusted

The solemn guardian of memories entrusted

I slowly ascended the wooden stairs before me

Which groaned beneath my weight- groans of weeping and mourning

At the top of the stair, sunlight did greet me

Through the windows at far streamed its rays

Breaking the musty cloud of dust in the air

The room cloaked in silence and haze

 There before an open trunk did I bend

And over its contents I lowered my head

Photographs and letters now faded with time

The garbs of the years did I study

But there at the bottom, resting beneath all-

Oh, could I be so lucky?

I lifted the article, the pirate’s treasure now found

A priceless treasure so dear

And the soft scent that still lingered in the delicate folds

Brought to my eyes brimming tears

 The stitches so even, the seams were sewn strong

At its perfection I marveled

And lifting the object in its resurrected state

Took a seat on the near chair that wobbled

 The cloth did I caress gently

My fingertips traveled o’er fabric of years

Long had I journeyed, felt cold nights of want

But the end of my travels I found here

 The beginning of my journey was the end of my road

In that quilt sewn strong, sturdy, and true

With love, care, and wisdom was our family built

The seams of our hearts sewn by you

 In the pattern of the quilt in the middle was a heart

I knew it could symbolize no other

The beginning of the end and the end of every start

Is stitched round the love of a mother