It was loved once,
this peach room
can you tell?
There, on that bed
is a small, plush rabbit
carefully arranged
for the utmost comfort
until the young proprietor of the room
returns
Prepare for loneliness, rabbit!

In the closet
hang twelve long dresses
(the pride and joy of their old-new owner)
looked at longingly each night
before sleep
Unworn, by the small owner,
lacking the chocolate marks,
grass stains,
that lovingly adorn
her other clothes,
residing in a neat pile
carefully shoved under that bed.
not as important
as the twelve dreams in that closet

A pink rug
sun-bleached
shoe-squashed
covers part of the worn wooden floors
oh, how many tears failed
To wash it clean
Once a dirt footprint was found
Tattooed upon it
in deepest, darkest mud?

Tears of a different kind
highlighted, perhaps
with sunlight streaming through an open window
She, whose room this was, failed to reach the tree
almost near the window
Fell.
Under, forever