The Attic of Evelyn Pearl

Tiny young Evy,

A six-year-old girl

Was named for her granny

Miss Evelyn Pearl.


She hasn’t young cousins

Her own age for play.

No brothers or sisters

To fill up her day.


When her family visits

Her grandmother’s home

She goes to the attic

Where she plays alone.


She’s never caught bored

When she goes up there

‘cause mystical wonder

Hangs loose in the air.


A porcelain doll

Becomes her best friend.

She tells her big secrets

For hours on end.


On her Grampy’s old flute

She’ll blow out a tune

And fancy’s they hear her

Out there on the moon.


Old buttons and beads

Become long lost treasure

That salty sea captains

Can count at their leisure.


A toppled old shelf

And a discarded oar

Becomes ship and rudder

That washed up ashore.


With musty old curtains

She fashions a tail

And waves are comprised

Of granny’s old veil.


Old teddy bear people

Are folk of the sea.

They go on adventures

‘Till afternoon tea.


When the moon starts to rise

And it’s time to head out

Tiny young Evy

Won’t grumble or pout.


Her exotic vast kingdom

Will wait for our girl.

‘Till then it’s the attic

Of Evelyn Pearl.



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