Memories in Dust

I found a photo today, edges worn,

a snapshot of my room, bright with dreams,

each toy a ghost floating in the dust.

Boxes packed tight, whisper tales long gone,

the faint imprint of a bed where I used to jump,

carefree, light, a conqueror of that small space.

Dust motes dance in fading daylight,

a mirror cracked, reflecting who I was—

a heart full of wishes, a mind still unbound,

yet somehow, here I sit, a stranger in my past.