all these good times
stretched thin between quotations
broad activity
soon to be branded
by nostalgia

facets of frustration
can carry different weight
depending on how much concern
is thrown at that piece of hair
which refuses to stay down
or those tears you wish
you hadn't seen

a look in the mirror
where you accidentally catch
a glimpse of who you'll grow up
to be
while the linger of old laughter
glides through thoughts like
a lullaby
joined by other small voices
doing their best to keep this room alive

this room
where bags and boxes
stay set for packaging
while the clock watches you
as you stare at her picture
seconds longer than
you should

never knowing worth
is trailed by an expiration date
a ticking time bomb to pause
the perfection indefinitely
or force the transition of
entering the realm of tomorrow
where these walls will no longer
be your parameter