It's empty now,this once cluttered room;
its tenant gone,
its walls a safe and saleable white;
its decor done in muted tones
so as not to offend a potential buyer.
Do the walls grieve their loss?
Do they miss the posters,
the scuff of a tossed shoe,
the pennants and the photos,
the nails, the tape, the push-pins?
Or are their scars, so unlike ours,
healed with a touch of spackle,
a simple coat of paint?
* * *
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