14 In the Attic

There are only so many ways to
Stack empty boxes.
Empty, Only full of
Memories forgotten and forsaken.

There is always one box with a
Dream – tormented by a spider and his webs
and unremembered–

The spider is much larger than the dream, and the webs are
Glistening, an unbreakable interlacing
Holding on to the one thing that
That gives it life.

There are so many times
His webs give way and the spider rebuilds.
And then the boxes tumble over.

Forgotten, not forsaken, I suppose.