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.