“Dust in the Attic” – poem by Gary Picard

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Spiralling stairs worn and split 

up to the loft where the seasons did shift 

touching the wall as the ones who are gone 

getting the feeling you’re the one to belong. 
 

  Plaster crumbles to your touch 

those feelings of dread beginning to clutch 

hoping you will not but knowing you will 

a strange little child from memories grown still. 
 

  Mem’ries are strange that we know 

as hard as we try we can’t let them go 

that same little kid from so long ago 

             turns out to be us 

         if you just let them grow. 

 

(Note: the photo is from the website of a paranormal investigator: ginalanier.com/ghostsphotosparanormal.php – Ed.) 

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