Attic of the wind

one word, magic.What happens to things that blow away,Like bubbles you blew one sunny day?Where did they all go anyway?To the Attic of the Wind.It's not an Attic you reach by stair--It's past the clouds and the stars somewhere!And what will we find if we play up thereIn the Attic of the Wind?Well, one doesn't have to imagine for too too long...There are autumn leaves that the wind has swirledFrom the far-off corners of all the worldAnd piled up high in a red-gold heapSo hundreds of children can play and leap.Yes friends, here is the magical, wondrous place snowflakes and dandelion puffs and butterflies and birds and balloons and kites go when they float away toward the sky. Again, a tear jerker (at least for me) at the end...Yes, the Attic of the Wind can storeAll the world's lost treasure and even more...The handkerchief you forgot to hold,The spelling paper with the star of gold,The picture you drew for Mother's Day,All the things you somehow let drift awayAren't exactly lost....