Childhood Home

I look around and see

Dust found a home

On an old family portrait. 

Time got ahold of it long

Before my memories could.

On the wall beside the door frame,

Faded scars.

The last notch sits below

My eyes; A carved date,

I can’t make out.

My old friend, the Robin, 

Looks down from our hiding place.

Has my voice changed?

I forgot the promise,

To find my way back. 

I look around and see 

Colors underneath the 

Chipped paint

Revealing who I used to be -

And I start to chip away.