The sun stretches, then reaches

and pulls himself into the room.

It is familiar to him,

for he has made this journey many times.

From the hair bands on the dresser

to the car keys thrown on the bed,

nothing has changed. 

Even the half-eaten bagel from that breakfast long ago

sits on the smiling face of a girl surrounded in purple.

The open scrapbook displays an array of picutures

of family, a long lost brother, and a fieldtrip to Florida.

A dusty super 8 millimeter camera sits

next to a well-loved bear in overalls and a red turtleneck.

Stacks of full and overflowing notebooks,

filled with songs and memories,

crowd a dusty, forgotten corner.

An old cross necklace rests near a rock

with melted crayons on it, a reminder of happier days.

In the corner, an old shoebox holds a grandmothers ring,

a great-aunt's ballet slippers, and a broken light saber.

The closet holds a borrowed shirt, a blanket, a collection of shoes,

and a picture of the once-coveted purple 1970 Barracuda.

A dusty debit card lays on the stereo system

with cash that was set there so it couldn't be forgotten.

The walls show personality,

from a stolen hotel sign to a lone Starburst.

Piano music and a letter from Watford perch on the pillow

where they would be sure to be seen.

The carpet will forever carry stains,

ones that the stain remover could never make disappear.

Broken glass and red stains are the only future this girl knew,

Her life shattered in an instant of rage.