|
dance of the dust
by Mary Ellen Smith
the dust in the attic having been stirred by old memories,
played in the sudden light of the open window.
like tiny sparkles of pixie powder,
lifted and lilted by a
good morning light.
they danced till tired from so much excitement.
and being not quite used to it one bit,
they settled down once again
as any good dust should,
atop the atticÂ’s menagerie
of forgotten treasures.
12/11/2004
Posted on 12/11/2004
Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 12/12/04 at 02:56 AM Great use of symbolism in this whimsical poem of "memories". Treasures covered with dust but treasures nevertheless--those memories that seldom see the light of consciousness. |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 12/12/04 at 06:23 AM I have an attic full. Great poem Mar.
Happy holidays to you and yours...Charlie |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 12/13/04 at 11:26 PM "and being not quite used to it one bit"...it sounds like a wonderful line out of a children's book. Have you written any? :-) |
| Posted by Jean Mollett on 09/05/06 at 02:20 AM Hi Mary Ellen,
Lovely, yet kinda sad. Treasures packed away. Guess we all have some of those. Time to bring then out, once in awhile. So not to be forgotton.
I also agree with Que. |
|
