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by Logan
Rated: E · Poetry · Relationship · #2226173
We don't stop playing games because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing games
Toys in the Attic

Toys left in the attic,
abandoned with such care;
a life lost, drab and static,
with playtime postponed, scared

Scared to walk the corridors,
scared to pace the halls;
feart of the attic space,
where desperate voices call

Beckoning the brave souls up,
that dare to rise, to burn;
to venture through the frozen halls,
... to see the pages turn

Career, twist and caper, born,
birthed from scrapbook dreams;
a quire craft from paper, drawn,
bound, gathered in a ream

In libraries where few have been,
with books so few have read;
spines curved yellow, pages seen,
dog eared, tattered... threads

Threads disguised as tales, loop,
as stories read, unfold;
narrators prized, sold, falling mute,
with narratives, less bold

Recycled conversations ring,
the wakes of wraiths enthralls;
a desperate conservation sings,
it circulates through halls

Rooms laid out in ways untold,
with phantoms in the night;
Architecture... barren, cold,
bereft a warming light

A present set aside for one,
afraid to let it go;
the gifting of a lonely sun,
... afraid to let it show

A fear of it being marked,
for less than what it's worth;
a fear of a careless spark,
to barren tinder, earth

A spark struck in a darkness, lights,
impromptu, rushed, unplanned;
with fires unrequested, bright,
with embers festered, fanned

Reaching out to corners, cast,
dark alcoves rarely touched;
warming up the borders, fast,
forgotten far too much

Frozen at the edges, numb,
bright, burning at its core;
open hallways, broken pledges, sums,
fear locked behind closed doors

Rooms we dare not shelter in,
havens we don't seek;
places we have never been,
... thoughts we dare not speak

Sleeping with a million thoughts,
swimming through the night;
sweeping under carpets, sought,
dimming with the light

Enlightened answers set to cost,
ploys set to hide, to scare;
abandoned with the chances lost,
we leave the toys up there

Toys upstairs in attics,
where prying eyes won't see;
noise lost up there in static,
... where such noises shouldn't be
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2226173-Toys-in-the-Attic