Attic

We take our shoes off in the dusty attic
Sing a rosary
Gather our purse
We must go down stream
Rub the window with our stick thin tissue
Find a passage way
Find our legs
Our plan is instinctive
A chain of pace
What do we say when we pass the point
No return
Bags waiting like a caper in the other room
All just a prank in other words
We must bar it from our mind
Clean the attic
Clean our shoes
Rest a while and gather our thoughts
The wind blows the curtains down
We gather them up
Replace them carefully
All just a game of daring and stars.