The Attic



Holds so many mysteries

as I quietly tip- toed in the dark,

feeling my way for treasures

while bumping my knees, 

banging my toes and keeping

my moans from waking

others below.


I finally found the treasure chest,

quietly lifted its latch, dust

blew all around me while squeaks

and thumps were heard and

lifting the top to catch  all the

mysteries it had buried inside.


There in front of my tired eyes

a photograph of mom and dad

smiling in happier days before

the Great War and the alcohol

had done them both in.


A bundle of letters tied in a bow

with faded red ribbons from so

many long years ago, were unopened,

yet a few I read under the light of my

little hand-held flashlight, while I wept

from the sadness that hung with such

sorrow and dread.


Beneath a pillow embroidered by my

grandmother’s gentle hand was inscribed

the Lord’s Prayer with a cross of gold and

silver thread written, he died for humanity

to take our sins away, I didn’t understand, 

yet the message was clearly given.

RIP Mom and Dad.

© Copyright Vincent Moore 2013. All Rights Reserved.



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