Decay in the Light

Opened the door, a scent sharp and cruel,

forgotten leftovers, a moldy pool.

Greenish hues creep up the sides,

as time laughs, where freshness hides.

The lid creaks soft, secrets unveiled,

some pieces of life, like stories derailed.

Each forgotten morsel, a reminder of haste,

as the fridge hums low, the past laid to waste.