In the attic the dust flies, Old dolls stare with painted eyes, A feathered hat, a skeleton key, What’s this treasure awaiting me?

A box of postcards, yellowed and torn, Vintage toys that look forlorn, A record spins, a tune so bright, Shadows dance in the fading light.

Grandma's secrets all tucked away, Old love letters, faded to gray, An odd-shaped lamp, a spider's web, Written old stories long since said.

A crystal ball and a flask, Knick-knacks in piles, no turning back, Every corner holds a sigh, In her world, where memories lie.

A quilt stitched with love and care, Mismatched buttons everywhere, A teacup giggles, “Take a sip!” Time slips by on a magic trip.

In the attic the dust flies, Old dolls stare with painted eyes, A feathered hat, a skeleton key, What’s this treasure, come and see?