Moving

Settling in the warmth on my last night in that room
I felt about to cry, at the walls now white and bare
At the curtains, translucent in a streetlamp’s steady glare
And I wished for one more week to say goodbye to my home.
I thought at first of the dreams that had flickered in my mind
Sometimes harsh, of rain-soaked faces pressed flat against the glass
Sometimes mild, of sun-flecked trees and ragged clouds soaring past
Still suspended in the midnight air, for others one day to find.
As the posters on my wall had been folded and stored away
To be opened in another house, to fade in another sun
Would I pack my dreams and take them with me, wherever I might run
And then open them and remember, on some gloomy, distant day?