There’s a red plastic ball
Lies against one pink wall
Where it rolled to a long time ago
It was just ninety nine cents
Made very few little dents
Soft like a pillow you know
There’s a baby doll pram
Some books stained with jam
A few alphabet blocks on the floor
There’s some little pink dresses
Some wrapped golden tresses
In an album now looked at no more
There’s a line on the door frame
With heights marked by a name
Stops suddenly and ends at three feet
There’s an atmosphere of gloom
The air is permeated with doom
In this room that should be so sweet
There’s a mangled red and white trike
One the little girl used to like
In a corner of the yard it was thrown
There’s no reason or rhyme
God decided her time
Her laughter in this house has now flown
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