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The Trunk
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by
The Ironhorse Writer
© 2/1/04
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In Grandma's home
He’s free to roam
Which meant a trek upstairs
Once at the top
All troubles would stop
At a door that held all his cares
The attic was musty
Cobwebs, somewhat dusty
To a boy, it all seemed so right
Like a runaway train
With the pull of a chain
Clicked imaginations light
Yesteryears remnants
Stored away sentiments
Newspapers, boxes and books
The attic unlocks
A world outside ‘The Box’
To one who simply, looks
A ‘Pirate’ today
He sails away
In hand, a yardstick sword
His object of pleasure
To seek buried treasure
Enough for all those ‘on board’
Through boxes of ‘trees’
The young ‘Pirate’ sees
Ever so carefully sunk
Buried ‘neath a sheet
Tucked ever so neat
Lay a large, old wooden trunk
So curious a find
The boy left behind
His charade of Captain and ship
Yet, soon he would see
This discovery
Held treasure indeed worth the trip
Sheet now aside
He was quick to decide
This was no longer a game
For the brass plate stated
‘Hereby Dedicated’
Above his Grandfathers name
Its lid resisted
Youth insisted
Time relinquished its seal
As old air met new
Anticipation grew
For what the old trunk might reveal
The boy peered inside
His eyes growing wide
Not knowing just where to begin
No silver or gold
Nor treasure untold
Yet a ‘wealth’ nonetheless within
His eyes shifted towards
Trophies then awards
To photographs and stories of fame
The trunk held the truth
Of his Grandfathers youth
Of a grandson who’d never be the same
Vintage helmets of leather
Well worn and weathered
Goggles and old racing shirts
Stitched letters on one
Saying Harley Davidson
On another, Ride til it hurts
Old homes often speak
Through floorboards that creak
In this case, ‘It’s too late to hide’
But Grandma just smiled
‘Your Grandpa was wild
But he sure did love to ride’
She sat, he listened
Her eyes then glistened
Spoke of a boy long ago
The look on his face
When he’d motorcycle race
Of how she loved that boy so
An hour had passed
Albeit so fast
The young boy just sat there in awe
‘Grandma, you rule
This is so cool
I wanna be like Grandpa’
With grandson back home
She decided to roam
Which meant a trek upstairs
Once at the top
All troubles would stop
At a door that held her cares
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