Moving Day

Posters used to hang here

On sticky tack and joy

Now there’s nothing but white paint here

No colors to enjoy

And I spent 6 years of childhood

Filling up the space

With shapes that seemed so bright and good

When seen from my own face

And as I crumple paper up

My imagined masterpieces

Cardboard cut, ceramic cups

Shattered into pieces

I cannot help but sigh and mourn

For wherein I held my pride

They were precious, now they’re torn

I feel like something’s died

But I found- just one or two

A small handful of things

That I still think are shining though

And so I know I’ll bring

These posters off like seeds

Just what my new room needs.

(Watch my process of writing this poem at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtDuqDhAUUM )