Rafters loom large between rusty nails.
A small raccoon peers out diamond at roof’s gable.
Ladder, missing rungs of course, stands ready.
Pine wood, walnut casings, large barrel stuffed with radio parts,
Mr. Bowles, struck dead by a mail truck on Henry Street, left treasures up there.
Sleepovers, flashlights, sleeping bags, pillows, Tiger Beat magazine.
Stooping over in the dark in the loft,
Laughing, scooping out chocolate cake richness made by Mom.
Cousins reaching in, me reaching in.
A sudden soft, swift wandering on sun-tanned arm.
Flash of light! Caught you!
Just a cluster of eight eyed spiders
Joining us for a late dessert.
Cerulean Seasons 
Love it. Didn’t know about the mail truck. But have seen opossum living in the wall.Love Ya BugsSent from my Galaxy
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You were fearless back then!
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Felt like I was in the loft too! Tiger Beat magazine I remember. Like the spider pics too.
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Absolutely beautiful descriptions, I feel as though I were there with you.
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That was a special place for us growing up. Had a lot of fun and spooky nights with friends in that loft. That is up until you showed mom my hidden pack of cigarettes.. lolol. Luv ya, Chaz
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Did I really?! Shame on me! I could’ve shared those with C. Wiersma!💕
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