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.