My sisters crayons always just laid there
Scattered on the ground, the page anything but bare
She was little and free spirited
Those crayons were way more than what they painted
They meant hope that one day
She would grow up and say
“where are my crayons?
I need to put them back where they belong”
She would then use them to create pictures
Pictures that would make memories without denture
Things that would stimulate nostalgia
Not headache, worry or nausea
My sisters crayons were more than
What they were in themselves
They were everything she said; “ I can”
To. They were meant for way more than shelves.
“Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination”
-Oscar Wilde💜💜
