A Child’s Room

All my toys scattered, bruised, and broken are

Worn from years of play.

Every time I pick them up, they groan helplessly,

Begging me, “Please no more play.” I put them down to play with tomorrow.

Finally, tired of my toys, I clean them up and put them away. I walk into the big white space,

leaving behind my room, comforted by a soft glow.

A Child’s room, now forever empty. A feeling of dread squeezes tight. I won’t let go, grasping.

Tighter and tighter. From somewhere below, a little voice cries, echoing sadly on to a room never walked in again.

Guest poet. Granddaughter Lillie Sandidge, age 13

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