I remember this place

Does it remember me too?

The attic where I used to hide

The place where I grew.


My one-eyed-doll of straw

the puppet lying in the corner

my blunt toy shear in the bassinet

still not feeling any sharper.


The place has the unheard whisper

of the days I was a little child

Not minding the tainted effluvium

Recanting every word mum said.


When a rope took me to the corners

though anomalous may it seem, those ways

it needs a suture, my heart

Still suspended in those aerial days.


P.S. Tried the poetry prompts for the first time by


3 thoughts on “IN THE ATTIC…..

  1. Fantastic write. It has a gentle yet at the same time a striking note, kind of like melancholy and sense of peace trying to make a concoction?
    I am very glad you found the prompt inspiring to participate! 😀

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