I was a chipped mosaic
Set into the worn sidewalk
Of a town who no longer
Celebrated its culture.
I was the old, dusty streetlamp
That disruped the orderly line
Of brightness along the road.
I was the floorboard
That buckled and sent
Children sprawling to
The floor.
I was the cabinet that never
Fully closed, its hinges forever
Remaining unoiled.
I was the rocking chair
That sat eerily still—
Old memories trapped
In the wood.