Mountains of memories yellowed with age,

Photographs stars of this cluttered stage.

They line the walls so you can’t see the paint,

I bite my lip to keep myself restrained.

Red-eyed Polaroids of time long ago,

First day at school and first time in snow.

Faded certificates and ribbons collect,

Books pile with little respect.

I eat dinner with my family like I never left,

My bedroom is frozen in time - like a test.

It’s as if I could pick up where I left off,

Time has made memories hazy and soft.

I take my leave of where I was raised,

Drive to my home with a new path paved.

The walls are empty save for art,

Counters clear and kept smart.

My dad says my house has no soul,

But I enjoy the space and what it brings,

A wide space for me to stretch my wings,

The emptiness makes me feel whole.

My very own home is mine!

Now leave me be to drink my wine…