Not what I expected for the classic "toys in the attic" reference to a simpleton. Far from it. Separating dreams from imaginings is no small task and I guess play is as close to the method as can be. Patrick

When someone touched our heart, past or present, it's hard to ever forget and it's those treasured memories we'll always cherish. My son passed away before Thanksgiving and this poem really touched me, Jude ...

This one puts the 'terse' in bittersweet, Jude. So condensed, succinct and at the same time, so rich with the repast of the past... strong imagery, and vivid voicing.

Roger

... toying with tender imaginings of phantoms, both real and perceived, are a part of the mystery of "not knowing" that we can be so very much in love with and, as you say, warm us in absentia with "a strange sense of contentment" that "still reigns over the will of (my) heart". Dream them all away if you can/wish to, but they will nevertheless exist in that "distant room of lost tomorrows" and doubtless will return! And will contentment still reign if they go? Intriguing things to ponder you present us with here. Have to admit to a house full of all sorts of toys this end of the wire and know full well that I can never be without them: they're triggers of so much that yields a sense of well-being and comfort, yes. A nice "ho, ho, ho"-write this mid-December day, Kartero... Enjoy! :)) xx

Hey Jude,
Lost loves, past romances, secret crushes, they all live in the past. Sometimes as your poem reminds us, that it is fine to play with those toys in our mind. It is healthy to be able to "play", for playing gives us a sense of peace and joy. I love the last two stanzas, they are remarkable!!!

Much to think about, but actually I think I am going to go play with my toys in the attic of my mind...

Much peace, light and love,
Amber

haunting and yet special too...don't forget to breathe :)
some of my favorite dreams come from attics, must be a special place in that sub conscious dimension.

A tender, poignant write. We all store our memories in an attic of one sort or another, to take out and to remember. All of our memories have led us to the person we are today.

Joy L. Hale

When I look back on my past relationships it never really matters how they ended, at this point I really do believe that the worst I ever had, was wonderful. I prefer to concentrate on the beauty in life and in doing so, I recall the sweet times from my past. Bad stuff happens to everyone; it is how we deal with it that always makes the difference. Truly you have taken me on a trip down memory lane with your poem. Beautifully penned.
Take care,
Sherry

Simply Beautiful. Love your great mind, Jude.

Toys in the attic are so much better than an emptiness upstairs...e

...that is the beauty of memories, we can store them away and choose to take the ones out we wish to play..I do this often, your poem is simply beautiful Jude, touching~

You have a splendid mind Jude! Jasmin Horst

~jude~ A sense of contentment in reflection ..Splendid


Lady Mary Ann

I think you put a lot of thought into this one. And I hope some pleasant dreams and thoughts are on the way.

EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! VERY TALENTED!!!!!!!!!!!!! ....'where paintings of departed lips hang on walls long forgotten'...'with the toys of tender imaginings'....'in a distant room of lost tomorrows and simply dream them away'------------ MOST TALENTED!!!!!! I JUST LOVE THIS BEAUTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva