There is a golden glow in my room

if I wake up to watch the sunrise.
Gold illuminates the green walls;
they remind me of the old house 
the room I shared with my baby brother
when I was plagued with terrors,
horrendous visions of slaughter.
In the new house, in my own room
the walls were butter yellow,
like the basement space I begged for
to have to my own for five months
but the landlord painted it gray,
burying those memories. 
The nightmares went away 
when the walls were green again.