When you go into my room
You’ll see stuff everywhere
Stuffed animals and picture frames
A lumpy beanbag chair
A tennis racket, lots of books
A bleach stain on the rug
And there is a mark on my desk
Made by an old tea mug
Shells and starfish on the shelf
Books, pens, and pencils too
A pot I made in ninth-grade art
A quilt that is brand new
A bulletin board on the wall
An old, grey stereo
My camera and my MP3
Closet’s a mess, I know
All my clothes are hanging up
Above blankets and bags
Some clothes are old and raggedy
And some are new with tags
My stationary occupies
Second drawer from the top
I accumulate too much jewelry
Really, I cannot stop
My cat is snoozing on the bed
Shedding all his hair
The guinea pig is squeaking, “Hi!”
But kitty doesn’t care
My hairspray and my brushes
Are by the looking glass
My belts and scarves get thrown around
And piled in a mass
I have gift bags and tissue paper
Buttons, gum, and glue
Markers, paints, and board games
Card games and puzzles too
A radio alarm clock
My guitar, some sticky notes
A tin of spicy candles
On the hook hangs all my coats
I’ve piled up shoe boxes
Some are full and some are bare
I have magazines, old dollies
With their matted, messy hair
You may look at my stuff and think,
She doesn’t have a lot
But to me, my stuff is special
And it’s all the stuff I’ve got
I’m lucky and I’m grateful
As far as I can see
Everything’s significant
It all matters to me