I live in a crayonned house
that opens onto
a multicoloured view
of whatever
has taken her fancy.
A little purple tree
with a large orange apple
wave after wave of
the bluest grass.
My little girl larger than me
holding my tiny hand
both of us taller
than house or tree.
A rainbow of smoke
undulating from a fat chimney.
A dog barks across a white sky
('I got tired & couldn't be bothered
to colour it in! ' she explains)
Big blue birds flying around
our feet.
This crayonned house
lives on a wall
of a bedroom
you haven't lived in
since you were small
& drew us here
with stuck out tongue & intensity of hand.
Now drawn
by Time
we return
(good old Dad
& dutifully grown daughter)
step into
our crayonned world
as if it were
yes(only yesterday)
living it
all over
again.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-the-sun-always-shines-magenta-for-lyn/
