Soaked into these hardwood floors
Are a thousand shades:
Joy, frustration, exuberance, despair.
So many colors stained on these walls–
The tumultuous miracle
Of a young family.
It was here that I became a father.
Here I drank deeply
From chalices so sweet and bitter
That it burns my throat
Just to think of them.
Moving forces me to realize
Those moments are gone,
Years sealed up and packed away
Like those towers of boxes.
Though they are forever
Etched upon my heart,
It brings me to tears to see
How they have slipped through my hands.
Nostalgia is a pain so sweet and tragic,
The heart staggers under its weight.