When life is a pallet of paint
And the emotions are the colours
A vivid picture is drawn,
Overwhelming by its splendours
…But one…
Made, one tint of liquid
A dull picture is painted
Of the child’s life, his home
Drawn alone, drowsy…jaded

Although it is so bare,
It still has so much to bid
Its beauty cannot be over reigned
Once, sprawled of splendid beauty, it did

The image commenced to fade
While time floated away
The colours disintegrated
Altered, in many a way

 
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