Long hidden in my hallway, there’s a stair
that I may pull to seek my attic song.
A wish to go beyond my daily care
so, climb the ladder’s rung before too long.
Pry open there a cedar chest of more
old verse; a space that’s sheltered from the fray.
It’s there I sit upon an oaken floor.
Reach back to thoughts of sunlit, better days.
This book is worn and bent but thoughts so free
I read, again, the courage of her_ bold.
The words, a treasure trove of Emily
where warmth gives joy to yet another soul.
I rise and take her volume in my arms;
descend my stair with laughing, schoolgirl charm.
(Day9, April Writer’s Digest PAD. Write a “shelter” poem)