Growing up

the water turned red and blue and green, mingling with finger paints inside the laundry room sink

the kitchen floor groaned as mud imprinted its surface, just after a soapy scrub

now it knows of nothing but sparkling tile

the moldy attic stairs ache to feel contact with flesh, hear the screeches of moving suitcases and resonating laughter growing distant

the chandelier sobbed when it met the tennis ball one rainy evening 

it can’t complain anymore because no one even flicks the switch on

the armchair by the window yelped as nails dug into its fabric

these days it watches the dew drops kissing the elm tree alone,
yearning for a human body to hold it close

the doorbell whimpered, glancing every now and then at the obstinate door

…sealed firmly at its hinges

come back, little girl

 come home and play with us