Fingermarks from doors I cleaned
Childrens names on walls I covered
Paint unable to wipe memories away
Toys look on wanting to play
Childrens laughter within these walls
Silence waits for their calls.
A slide which lay as dead as night
A curtain camp which tries with might
To keep its tears to itself
Like some discovered garden elf.
These memories into which we bite
Shall force away the fears of night
Fingertips and names are gone
In thought they shine and shall become
The basis of all future days
Through truth we will find our ways.