© roy ballard 2012

 

 

Within a faded attic of the mind

I saw you; it was dusty with despair,

with dry, dead leaves on flowers left behind,

with bleaching silk and curtains, half-drawn blinds

and then I thought saw you standing there

within this faded attic in my mind.

I saw you there but words I could not find;

too many words had flown and left me bare,

like leaves that wilt on flowers left behind.

You called my name and whispered something kind;

your cherished voice sang in the arid air

within a faded attic of the mind.

Love lost for words grows empty and confined

to hang on what a wilted stem can bear

like leaves that dry on flowers left behind,

like flower buds that never did unwind

for vanished seasons left them hanging there,

within a faded attic of the mind.