The Old Trunk In the Attic

Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night with something on your mind and you have to write it down or else you can't fall back to sleep? This morning, for whatever odd reason, I woke up at four-thirty with a poem in my head. I almost laid back down and dozed off again, but I knew if I didn't write down what I was thinking, I wouldn't remember it again when I got up later.

Yesterday I was going through my hope-chest, looking at all the old things I've saved (my great-grandpa's Bible, my first baby blanket, etc.) and so I guess that type of thing was on my mind last night. The poem I wrote is based on the idea that a young girl is going through an old trunk found in the attic. An old trunk filled with many stories. Generations of stories about her heritage, and her grandparents' hard-working ways, serving the Lord, and sowing love in the family for many years to come.

The Old Trunk In the Attic

Smells like mothballs seasoned with years,

But this trunk is filled with love and tears.

The family Bible is worn with age,

With yellow markings on every page

That show the time and care they took

To read and follow God's word in that Book.

Those shoes walked the narrow way

As Grandma followed God each day.

Grandpa's hat is rugged and worn;

Underneath it were many ideas born.

His gloves still bear that cold, hard dirt

That show he wasn't afraid to work.

Needles and thread now brittle with age

Are what Grandma sewed with night and day;

She always worked 'til the job got done,

But I still remember she was so much fun.

She and Grandpa are in my heart,

And the mem'ries in this trunk, to me, are years of art.

I know my grandparents have gone above and left all else behind,

But in this trunk up in the attic, stories of joy and love I find

Bits of Grandma and Grandpa's stories,

And how they gave God all the glory.

Have a blessed day!

~Courtney

(These pictures show me wearing my great-grandma's ring and housecoat.)