Relics of the past

When I look around my room I see
my jewelry box filled with loom band bracelets
and
necklaces made from air dry clay
and
various earrings and charms,

my old toys littering the ground,
a plastic elephant,
a rubber duck,
stuffed animal toys.

Little kid books litter the shelves,
Captain Underpants
Bedtime for Frances
Geronimo Stilton.

In my closet, little kid clothes,
too-small camp shirts,
tiny pjs,
pants so small if I put them on now they'd scarcely reach my knees.

In my room,
a book I just read,
some brushes in a water glass,
the Snowflake Bentley poster I hung up a month ago.

My room –
unfinished art projects,
the clothes I'll wear tomorrow,
a half-played record.

In my room, the 
relics of the past,
items of the present,
plans for the future
collide.