Attic

Wakey Wakey world
I’m already up
drinking my coffee 
having a smoke 
and quietly wondering 
what to write 
to you today 
Do I tell 
you about him
he who now 
occupies the attic 
of my mind
you know there
the place where 
we put things 
no longer needed 
but maybe will
be seasonally the 
attic where secrets 
are squirreled away 
like nuts never 
to be found 
again the attic 
way up there
the farthest away 
from my heart
nothing ever goes 
down from the 
attic only up 
from the heart
do I tell 
you about him 
maybe one day 
when I move 
and must choose 
what to pitch 
which to keep 
and which to 
tell you about