The light will dapple textured paper
Picked when I was six, in childhood rooms
With rose pink paper on the walls,
Memories flit through heavy air
Mingled with the swirls of dust
That billow in the air, as teddy bears
Are tossed into the black bin bags.
I’ll never see this room again, a punch
To the stomach as I close the door.
I’ll miss this place, the soft cocoon
That held me in my infant years.