All that I loved,
I have outgrown them
little by little.

A rusty bicycle,
a pair of broken glasses,
a parade of dusty picture frames,
a heap of old friendly letters
the worlds and the words
they handed over
are no longer mine
to keep or remember.

For all that I loved
which once were my home
have become so brittle
as if telling me “Go,
you do not fit here,
not anymore.”