I walk around my boxed up house
and carefully step around the edges,
scoot around the clutter and ignore the blankness
this house no longer feels much like home
not since the warmth of familiar things
have been boxed up, taken down or thrown away
it was all so sad how quickly
my home disappeared behind cardboard
and just became this temporary space before we move on,
just a place to sleep
I no longer look at a room and find its potential
or care too much about how it looks
because these aren't my rooms anymore
there is no future here between myself and these walls
it's bittersweet to think back on the memories made here
not all of them were good,
but not all were bad either
in the near two years spent here
we grew
together and apart
and back together again
turning a space from four walls to
a house we called home
the boxes are like a metaphor to my life,
to the unavoidable change that will occur in a few months,

change is in the air
and soon the long, hot, dog days of summer
are going to fade into colorful leaves sweeping the earth,
cool breezes in the window late at night,
and the end of summer, the last one of its kind for us, will be envitable
and
just like the time of the seasons
as the world slips into fall
  our ending in this time of our lives
will slip suddenly through our fingertips and give way to something a new,
sudden yet almost unnoticeable
but also completely, irrevocably welcome