Buried Reminders

Found a box sealed with a memory's thread,

a teddy bear lost, with eyes that are dead.

Dust dances like shadows across the floor,

a lifetime of stories that I can't ignore.

Mom sold the house, it's just walls that remain,

and ghosts in the rafters whisper soft pain.

I sift through the layers of what used to be,

a silence heavy with what’s left of me.