From Rose to Rosewood

Pigtails sat tightly on her head Curls poking through And framing her face. The bear kept her company, Sat close by her head. The dolls sat carefully placed Drinking tea around the table. Her name in blocks Across the wall, Not easily missed by passing eyes. A rainbow spread above her bed, Sparkles raining down, A crown above her head. Drawings littered the floor, Colors outside the lines. A perfect metaphor, she thought For the life she had made. The curtains are pulled Closing off the sun Yet the walls were still bright And young And innocent. She stood in the doorway, The image fading. The walls were still bright, But the memories dimmed. As long as she stood there, The room would not change. They kept it the same, No matter how long she was gone. Her clothes were now dark, Her hair loose and full. She stared at the room, For one last time Hoping she could return Although the hope Would not last.