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CRAYON ON THE WALL

 

 

 

My memories never fail to flow,

Back to when you were small;

To toys scattered on the floor,

And crayon on the wall.

 

I remembered all the questions asked,

On trips with just us two,

Like why is the water wet,

And why the sky is blue.

 

Those times we had were simple times,

Your needs were simple too.

Like helping to reach upper shelves,

Or maybe tie a shoe.

 

The answers always seemed to work,

On questions you could see.

And ice cream cones could always fix,

A scraped and cut up knee.

 

The answers got a lot harder over time,

And now that you are grown,

You have a little one asking for you,

To give answers of your own.