Exodus

Her room I used to call a “sight”,
With piles everywhere;
I’d accept it now without complaint,
If only she were there…

Her clothing hung in closet row,
In colors she admired;
But now the closet pole is bare,
The walls look plain and tired.

The bedclothes used to shift and fall,
And hang upon the floor;
Her room is now abandoned…
She doesn’t live there anymore.