34/365: An attempt at a poem

Once again, a trip I booked so long ago has come and gone. 

I'll miss the creaky wooden floors and the painted-window doors.

I'll miss the old phone that sits in the corner and the electric heater that makes it feel like a sauna.

I'll miss the books on the shelves and the wind chime that bells.

I'll miss standing in your room and letting the memories loom. 

I'll miss you Senelė, perhaps watching along from the moon.