In Cardboard Boxes

While collecting laundry, socks and shirts,
I came upon one of Emily's coloring books, white,
dog eared, on its last leg from not being treated right.
I placed it in a box with one of her checkered skirts.
It was time to clean up Emily's room last night.
Getting ready to move without her makes my throat tight.

I found a box of Barbie bandages for childhood hurts.
I spied a spool of string from Emily's Dora kite.
How we ran and laughed as it flew to a great height.

Emily's broken blue water gun that no longer squirts.
I stopped cleaning and packing for a drink of Sprite,
surely I will never finish this task tonight.
Taped to her mirror were tickets from Christian concerts.
I carefully took them down, and turned out her light,
thinking how she will view her new room; eyes so bright.