The Little Trunk

So long it has stood in this little room

A small trunk, battered with age,

Covered with leather, fashioned of wood...

A treasured heritage.

Placed here long ago by a hopeful bride

to hold her baby's clothes

Knitted bootees, wee flannel gowns

And infant furbelows.

 

Through the years it has garnered keepsakes,

Clippings, scrapbook and cards:

A wedding dress and accessories

In safekeeping, hideaway guards.

 

Yet the old trunk slowly is breaking...

Its long-lasting leather now falls

In small broken pieces, where often

Glimpses of framework appalls.

 

And yet, I still vallue the store of the years

Which the little trunk has shielded,

For certain asssurance has always been mine

Of firm staunchness the trunk has yielded.

--Jennie Roy Flautt

Treasures In The Attic

Heirlooms

Up in the attic Down on my knees

Lifetimes of boxes

Timeless to me

Letters and photographs

Yellowed with years

Some bringing laughter

Some bringing tears

 

Time never changes

The memories, the faces

Of loved ones, who bring to me

All that I come from

And all that I live for

And all that I'm going to be

My precious family

Is more than an heirloom to me

 

--Amy Grant

***

Old Fashioned Attic

 

The door always squeaks just a little

Whenever a child turns the knob;

The stairs are both narrow and so steep

That climbing's a difficult job.

 

There are long empty alleys for running

With noisily pounding feet.

There are dark, little cubbies for hiding

And hollows where echo sounds meet;

 

Some large boxes bulging with tinsel

Join flags from the Fourth of July;

There are bundles of ribbon-tied letters

And trunks of old clothes to try.

Oh, lucky the child with an attic

And memories from yesterday--

Adventure and often enchantment

Await her whe she comes to play

--Ruth J. Jorgensen

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