Oh the treasures in the attic – if only they could speak
What stories would they tell-
If only they could speak.
A blue china platter, cracked and crazed
sits a top a round oak table.
Who at the morsels that it held?
What family sat at the table speaking of the day’s events?
And what of the walnut burl and marble dresser?
What treasures did it hold?
Satin and laced for a pretty young girl,
Or starched white shirts and
suspenders for a handsome man?
A rocker sits in a corner
covered in cobwebs.
Whose mother sat and rocked,
singing softly to comfort a crying child?
The old Victrola that plays not more,
Did it once play romantic waltzes for lovers
on warm summer evenings?
The rusty little fire engine thrown carelessly on the floor –
Where is the little boy who took it to imaginary fires
and rescued maidens in distress?
A doll leans against the wall – her hat askew-
a spot of strawberry jam on her dress.
What child did she delight oh so long ago?
Were there tea parties and giggling girls with ribbons in their hair?
And what of the steamer trunk covered in dust?
To what exotic lands has it traveled?
Who excitedly packed for journeys far away?
Oh the treasures in the attic – if only they could speak.
Oh what stories they would tell –
If only they could speak.
Category 2 (Honorable Mention)
