A timid light creeps down the wall,
And casts a dull shine.
Withered curtains droop beside
The grime-covered window.

The bed still lies unmade, and
The yellowed bed sheets are tangled.
Even they seem to sag under the
Heaviness that lies in the room.

On the rug that wastes away
Lay clothes strewn all around
That never made it to the hamper
Or to the wash. They too, wilt away.

The drawer to the dresser
Still hangs open, heavy with clothes
Who’s bright colors are now muted
By a collecting layer of gray dust.

On the shelf are old things
That will never again be held:
An airplane from the toy shop, and an
Action figure whose colors have dulled.

Legos still lay on the floor,
Rows of men and tanks facing each other
Standing ready for a battle
That will never begin.

Without the light he brought,
The room, it withers away.
Four hundred sixteen square feet
Of suffocating agony.