She walks into her room,

One last time
To see a brown box
Sitting close to her cherry wood door,

Her purple walls
Is painted over by a light cream color
That her mom chose months before.

She closes her eyes
And imagines her childhood room
Before everything was tossed into boxes
Or wrapped in plastic.

The queen size bed
With a dark wooden headboard
And different kinds of hats
That sat on the top of each pole
At each four corners that surrounds the bed

She imagines her clear glass desk
With pens and pencils scattered across it.
Papers all over the white carpet
With crumpled up granola wrappers
That was everywhere,
But in the small black trash can.

The sound of the car horn
Flutters her eyes open.
Everything was gone.
Losing the one thing
That everyone thought of never letting go.

She picks up her last box
And glances around the room
One last time,
Before she gently shuts the door behind her