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