Dust of Memories

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by Zubika18

by Zubika18

                                    
                                              Now,
                          It's time.
                          To open the attic door.

                          Let the dust in my living room.
                          Telling me each little past story,
where I chuckled in commas and exclamatory marks.
                          I let you enter.
Dear,
Dust of Memories.
                          That I had caged in my attic.
                          I let you play puppets,
In front of my eyes.
                          Where I could see, 
You perform.
                          My childhood:
                          Playing with hotwheels.
Came home with dirty feet.
But still mom smiled, seeing my mud bowl, I had made with my friends.
                          Dear, Attic dust.
Come sit by the fireplace.
                          Remind me my nursery rhymes.
                          Where Jhonny was a Liar.
Teddy bear, went to school.
Bit of paper, taught me to clean the room.
                          Oh! My funny childhood.
It was full of rainbows.
Barbie dolls and cartoons.
Where all I had in my mind;
That those cartoon dragons were my 
friends too.
                          Dear,Attic dust.
                          Please, stay here and tell me my teenhood mistakes.
                          But by the time, my work called me back.
                          And market bought me new things.
Portraits. Novels, bowls and handicrafts.
                          Replacing the attic memories.
Shushed away,
                          My childhood photo album.
The bowl I had made in the play.
Nursery rhyming books. Dolls and hotwheels with the frocks I used to wear in love.
                          Written on:  10 Jan 2018.
                        7:43 PM