The Last Night Here

Cardboard edges, scuffed and torn,

a birthday card blooms—uncertain, worn.

Distant laughter from some other room,

memories linger, ghosts in the gloom.

Boxes stacked, a teetering tower,

each holds echoes of a shared hour.

Light slips through the window’s glass,

a farewell linger, a moment to pass.

Dust motes swirl, caught in a beam,

remnants of life, a half-formed dream.

Outside, the movers hum their refrain,

but here in silence, it’s hard to explain.