The Attic.

It's seems like a 1000 days since farewell. A 1000 days since moments together stopped to be. A 1000 days since our ways parted. I stand back and watch our time together pass soundlessly into the past. Into that place where facts are colored by my fears and fantasies, reality shaped by my love and hate, and time measured by my passion or indifference. A million memories - moments of the past, seem to gather dust in an attic inside my head. Away from the din of the dreary everyday life, away from prying eyes, away from the tribulations of my day-to-day existence, life lies fragmented and frozen in silent testimony to my time here. Every gasp, every sigh, every voiceless prayer and unshed tear of my life lives here for eternity. In the solitude of my soul, I climb the three scores and a year old rickety staircase to my attic often now. The tired wood rattles and creeks under my feet as in protest to my frequent visits. Sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes in broad daylight, sometimes with the leisurely coutenance of a seasoned tourist, sometimes with the fervent passion of a faithful pilgrim, sometimes for seconds, sometimes for hours, I visit you often in my attic.I see the vibrant smile, I see the twinkle in your eye, I see the beautiful feet. I see a tear drop braving gravity's pull. I hear the laughter - unrestrained and full. I see the arms that once held me. Among the unfilled promises of the days gone by I see the moments that made surrender possible. Amidst the unborn children of my dreams I see everything that gave birth to moments so beautiful. Long after I have bid you my final goodbye, the attic will still be alive with their suppressed giggles and suggestive smiles. In the silence of the night, if you listen closely, I am sure you will hear them laughing.