Laced Pink

Strands of hair tickle the wind,
As a girl slings on an old bag,
And stumbles within.

From this day forward
She will live anew,
Adjusting to fresh frames.

Fingers trail against the wall,
Guiding her through bare space,
Into a laced pink room.

Tears trickle down her cheek
While her callused hands grip,
Grip the possessions of youth.

Fragments of childhood memories
Dance past her amber eyes,
As the realization strikes.

This room isn't hers,
It belongs to someone else,
Someone who has yet to grow.