The Attic

I crawl into the corner,
under the rail of old clothes
making a gap between dad's jackets
so a little light comes through.
I hide with teddy and think.

There's an old wardrobe up there where our photos are kept.
I pull out piles of them scatter them round me.
I sit for ages looking at the holiday snaps
and photos of me and my sister when we were babies.
Sometimes I play Snap against myself or Clock Patience.
From their nest under the eaves,
the chirruping house martins keep me company.

The rafters creak and the wind whispers
through the holes in the black roof felt.
Sometimes I hear the muffled sounds
of voices and doors banging below.
"Jason, where are you?" my mum calls.
But I stay quiet and say nothing.
After a while I get really cold so think about going down.
I move the brown cardboard boxes of Christmas decorations
feel their weight then drop them with a thud.

I wrap teddy in his blue coat
and leave him there in the dark
all alone, waiting for another day.
Then I climb down and put the ladder away.

Jason Moore (aged 10)