Day Ten: #WoPoWriMo - Box in the Attic

    

You spoke to me today, 

through the scent of the dust, 

and the mothballs

in a long-closed

box; you spoke and the words

flew across

the years, like the wings of grey doves -

they wrapped and consumed me

in memories of love; unconditional; and a deep

summer haze. They smelled of the moss

that adorned and glazed

the lawn

in your garden of roses, and recalled

sugared pies and daisy-chain 

posies, picked and planted

in an egg-cup display;

they remembered all that was given

and taken away, under a precautious

strawberry-sun. It seemed I blinked,

one afternoon,

and you were gone;

climbed peeling paint 

of old stone stairs;

barely above 

the height of my knee,

just to find, 
you were no longer there.
     
I opened a box in the attic today - it smelled of my Great-Grandma's house. I hadn't breathed in that scent in twenty-four years... :)