Emptiness and desolation,

My old home is now only a house,

Built out of wood and metal,

A rush of memories bombards my mind:



Slumber parties,

Spilling glue on the green, tattered carpet,

Long phone conversations,

Late nights,

Fights with my little sister,

Tears,

Birthday presents,

Lazy summer afternoons,



Barren,

Glue stains remind me,

Eight years,

Trapped behind a plaque: "19 Miller Avenue,"



It calls me back,

Pleading, begging,

I turn away,

"Don't leave ... Just stay a little longer," it calls,

One slow, solid movement,

My old life and memories dwell,

In a dwelling made of wood and metal.