They say the room is a representation of the mind.
In that case, my room is chaotic.
Filled with memories of people, places.
The wrinkles in my clothes splayed on the floor, each one an event.
The junk drawers, filled with trinkets, each one important to me.
The books on my shelves, all an alternate reality I was transported to, lived through.
Medals on the walls, each one being the happiest of moments.
I am molded from these memories, and I don’t regret a single one.
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Comments2
A lovely poem of embracing one's past and present well done
Thank you so much!
You are welcome
I love it ❤️
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