Old memories don’t die.
They just fade to gray.
As we scrubbed
And packed
And prepped
We mopped up the flotsam of a hundred birthday parties.
We broomed the jetsam of a thousand Nerf gun battles.
We covered our graffiti with pewter paint.
Now it’s simply shiny floors
And stainless steel.
But there are still a few cosmic particles floating about
Material for the primordial soup
Of new adventures in that place.
You can’t sweep that away.
Wax On
Wax Off
