Faye Sizemore


Leading to the attic, there is a narrow stair
Grandma’s old treasures are stored up there

She has her wedding dress all pearls and lace
Old pictures and trunks are stored in this place

Lots of things she put here because they were still good
The many drawers are full in old dressers of antique wood

On Sunday, last week we buried our beloved Grandma Anne
To her house in this quiet street she’ll not be coming again

She lived alone thirty years after Grandpa died
She never married again, Grandpa was her pride

Boxes of pictures, so many more than I could count
They have to be gone through, we can’t throw them out

Here’s Father’s picture, on the back, it says he’s just eleven
He has gone last year, and waits for Grandma in heaven

Here is a soldier’s picture, by the uniform, can you tell the year
He doesn’t look familiar to me; I wonder why she kept him here

Grandpa was a soldier way back in World War II
This must be a picture of someone he once knew

What’s that sticking out the back, the frame is falling apart
It’s an old letter and on the back is drawn a heart

“My dear Anne, Tom told me, before his death in my arms came’
Heavens, look at this letter, it is signed with Grandpa’s name

“If I make it through this war and if I finally come home
Will you marry me, and let me take Tom’s babe as my own”

Why, Tom was my father’s name! “Take Tom’s babe as my own?”
I held in my hands a picture of a grandfather I’d never known

Never known because he had been killed in the war
All these years his picture has lain in this drawer

I sent a silent thank you to the grandfather who had come home
He has my love and honor, this man who claimed us as his own