Apartment 302

I just realized that April is National Poetry Writing Month, and in that spirit I will do my best to write a poem everyday. Pardon my late start!

The screech of the streetcar suddenly soothes,
Nearly a year of moments ready to lose.
It was a strange place that leaked comfort ever more,
Droplets of trust and tender collected on that floor.

And with the thrill of places new,
She will miss the shelter in which she grew.
Because it did not shelter;
Those walls let maturity seep through.

From this place she will leave some things,
Fewer clothes, less ornaments to which she clings.
Closer to the essentials,
A cheap trick living life brings.

The broken rectangle mirror from the street,
The wine-shoe-rack made thinking she was neat,
The windows that only open when they want,
And the hot-cold water ratio with its playful taunt.

Things that characterized a coming-of-age time and place,
With a deeper sigh, it has left its trace.
Where will she find herself next?
You might see a hint in her face.