img19_AllisNotPink

All Is Not Pink

18
Oil and Collage

Pitter, patter, pitter, patter
Through the arches,
Through the doorways
They came and they went
They ran, they played, they sang
They cried –
They are crying now – somewhere – but where?
Now they are gone
The young, not fully grown.
Only the pink walls remain,
An echo, a hum of small footsteps,
Pitter, patter, pitter, patter…..

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