~ Attic Treasures ~
In the darkness of the evening,
To an attic filled with dust,
We climbed the spiral staircase,
Turned the doorknob covered with rust.
The door swung slowly open,
Creaky hinges woefully moaned,
As if to speak objections,
Like an old arthritic bone.
We saw the dark formation,
In the recess of the room,
We stood in total silence,
As if, it was a tomb.
But moving bravely
We lit a candle on the shelf,
There before our eyes,
Loomed Grandma's hidden wealth.
We spent hours in the attic,
Reading notes, tucked in some books.
They were memos of her thoughts and hopes.
She must have known we'd take a look!
There were handkerchiefs and jewelry,
Hand-held mirrors made of gold.
Yet none compared to the book I held,
Nor, would the book be sold.
Its value wasn't measured,
By worldly treasures we had viewed,
But by the revelation gleaned,
As we read the verses through.
Weathered pages, from the years long past,
And many times of use,
Drew us back for years to come,
To read the Lord's Good News.
Within that age-old trunk, we found,
Love… for humanity.
Love so great, He gave His Son,
To set the whole world free.
Too, we realized at last,
Just what our Grandma gave,
When she left that trunk for us to find,
On this cold and wintry day.
Copyright © 2003