<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471119" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Attic Key</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the transpiration of earliest dews<br>Failed to staid and invigorate<br>The amputated isthmus of the atrium<br>You would blithely shun<br>All the lovely, saccharine bones<br>Even the crunchy stride<br>Of the svelte V-formation<br>Of the veering migrating birds<br>Paving the soggy nimbuses<br>Of hapless shades and parasols<br>For they unfurl a reminder<br>Of capitulating abandonments<br>And like a wolf without a howl<br>You would aimlessly amble<br>With feet of morose<br>To cave inside, distraught, <br>In the clandestine dappled corners<br>Where the myriad of the dead<br>And the plenitude of dying breaths<br>Rattle uncouthly for<br>A greater hunger<br>And in the riving of hushed comport<br>Of the attic's remedy<br>You would sulk to descry<br>Your maudlin heart beating briskly<br>Sodden from the attrition<br>Of the charlatan sun<br>Amongst the trellises of cobwebs<br>And shoddy bed of dusts<br> You would lay your empathy<br>And the stagnant breathing<br>Of the attic's clockwork verve<br>Would feign an assuaging sweep<br>To resuscitate the prattling blood<br>Fervently seeping through<br>To clutch you closer<br>Like a bullet darting through<br>The place where no one knew<br>Divulging its own nadir<br>And that was all<br>That your bleeding needs<br>To find that you are<br>Not yet in the bottom<br>Of your so called pits<br>And the sun would again seethe<br>Grazing mellifluously <br>The bullets buried<br>To your aching lovely bones<br>And swear and spiel a promise<br>To purge the bleak attic<br>From its latticing derision<br>And let the light stray and stall<br>When the next morning dawn <br>But you always seem to forget<br>Where the promises coiled<br>Perhaps, you have crucified a script<br>In the scathing walls of the chambers<br>Of the pumping mechanical valves<br>That you need the fathoms<br>Of the attic's secrets<br>So you would stash<br>The attic key<br>Into the pathos<br>Of remorseful wisps<br>In cases<br>Of emergency.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471119" data-title="Attic Key de Norman Santos" data-description="When the transpiration of earliest dews Failed to staid and invigorate The amputated isthmus of the atrium You would blithely shun All the lovely, saccharine bones Even the crunchy stride Of the svelte V-formation Of the veering migrating birds Pa..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black