Brave little soldiers all of them lead, but most of them <br />are either damaged or dead. Moth eaten lace that hang's <br />on a rail, the remnants of a forgotten wedding veil <br />Under a clouded window stands an old rocking horse <br />he is lost to the world and he has ran his final course. <br />A nursing chair now gone to pot, that could bring a tidy <br />penny in an auction lot. <br />In the corner is a chest full of letters and script and a collection <br />of books with some pages that are ripped. <br />Cobwebs and dust fill every space, can we ever wonder <br />who lives in this place. A haven for mice and vermin infestation <br />and a wonderful scene for a dramatic art presentation. <br />This place is the attic where everything goes and what <br />is in it no one knows; this is a place to hide your dreams <br />hidden away amonst the rafters and the beams. <br />A place of storage for those forgotton cares <br />Which live in that place, above the stairs.<br /><br />sylvia spencer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/forgotten-cares/
