There’s always a box to fill.

There’s always a box to fill

Cobwebs clouded the dark room dangling eerily from the creaking wooden rafters. My dimly lit torch picked up a large trunk in the corner.
The hinges squeaking, creaking as I lifted the heavy lid smothering me with dust. A musty smell often experienced upon entering old bookshops filled the air. I picked up the first book that came to hand. The opening line read “ if you rest you rust “. How appropriate I thought as I eyed the assorted bric -a-brac scattered all around. A toy train, spinning top. Then my brain began to hop from childhood cheers, teenage fears, adult years, joys, tears. If only I had known the truth that fears I felt while in my youth were nothing to be fearful of, just a Learning curve of life and love. Would life have been so different, everyday an education, a step into the unknown. A new year beckons, more memories to gather dust in my new crawl space of an attic. You won’t fit much up there they said as the light from the torch reflected-silver dust streaming across an empty space. I smiled.
Jpoet7 ( @wordverse.me )

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