The family whose leaving made room for me
left a mirror hanging in the hallway.
Nailed too high to use, I can only see
the crown of my head. 

The remains of the chalk
art on the patio
whisper the rain-washed dreams 
of two young minds.

The dust lines on the mantle
hold the impression of their most-loved pictures. 
Placing the marks of my own life 
above the coals seems sacrilegious.

Will they return one night
to retrace their lives
and instead find a stranger
asleep in their bed

and unfamiliar faces
watching from the walls?