The Novel in the Attic

Novel in the attic

How quaint it was forgot 

Though it's endearing pages

Have want to not be lost 

 

So rummage up the dust strewn stairs

To find the gold in vintage; 

The new cannot compete the rare 

The old intrigues the new. 

 

And its cover is decrepit, 

The glossary not comprehended 

The pictures, pale, in sepia 

All of it, old memorabilia 

 

Yet the words inside are rich and ripe 

With moments happy, and others trite

Imagine it, inside your mind 

The setting in vermilion 

 

So as an homage to the derelict 

What has become esoteric

Found, the novel in the attic

Won't live it's life forgotten.