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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.
Copyright ©
Victoria Vermillion
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