It is a city in the uppermost corner of the mind
Dark and solitary
Sit on the rooftops and look at the stars
through the broken sky
Rain will not come
Rain will not hurt you here
Old memories will.
They will come alive
searching your subconscious
with a vengeance
Toothbrushes and doll houses
Your mother's old photograph
You cannot imagine she could ever look pretty
That old maths paper with a zero
The cobwebs have come home at last
The dust has been shifted
Now there's enough space to sit
and have a good cry
The attic city will always keep your bones in place
There will always be a way to find the breadcrumbs back
Back towards this place.
Back towards this place.
This place with its downtown windows
And upper handed ladders
Reaching for late night monopoly
And coffee by the old stove.
There will always be that spider in the broom shack
The one that lives forever and ever
This place becomes a time machine
The moment you step into it
The years don’t matter
You greet the attic city like a long lost friend.
And a friend it is, rising above the clouds
A nectarine of collected thoughts
Only seen by the telescope of a few eyes
Jaded and black into the summer sky.

-- Nabeela Atlaf