Revisiting Old Rooms

Oh if walls could talk and all that jazz.
I revisited one of my old bedrooms today.
I only heard my story.
I think I would have liked to hear the stories before mine.
Oh that 113 year old room.
I interrupted its creaking floorboards.
I listened to the resident fly descended from the first fly, buzzing.
I revisted, I remembered. But not past my memory.
Oh the generations of memories remembered only now by those walls, those floors, those flies.