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Poetry
Attic Books
I spent
hours of my evenings
In a corner of my room
Reading tattered books
Snitched from the attic
Worn covers with embossed
titles
Did not reveal the magic
Of the dozens of stories
Told within them
Each night I would
read
Until the light grew dim
But I didn't wish to leave my reading
To go find a candle
And eventually someone
in my family
Would bring me cold suppers
And sometimes an oil lamp
Because it was a little brighter
In the floors below
me
I heard things breaking, angry insults
Shouted down the stairwells
In piercing voices
But I didn't mind
Because it was their world, not mine
And such was the bliss of my existence
Until I finished the last attic book
.~*~.
I was trying to produce something abstract, similar to Linoleum... I didn't. Oh well. Dated February 28th, 2005.
\\Girl\\
Adrienne Wolter. May 4th, 1990. 16. Taurus. Junior. Atheist.
Author. Poet. "Organized chaos." Cellist. Soprano. Slytherin.
Web designer. Blue belt.
<3 Severus Snape. Harry
Potter. Fan fiction. Writing. Monk. The Office. The War at Home.
Cats. Yorkshire pudding. Everclear. Maroon. Clothing. Karate.
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