Where Have The Children Gone? The vibrations of the floor are obsolete once a platform for short tiny feet that tickled the house warm A wall that was once defaced with the drag of green crayola, is now absent A stinging scent of fresh paint announces itself as the trail of orange crumbs and syrup that kissed the floor are now replaced with the smear of water Lightning McQueen sits quiet and well behaved his lonely wheel tips, in need of a friend He once was embellished with stickers taken from the bowl at the doctor’s office, soothing the wail after being given a shot Unfamiliar with the characters he picked, figured it didn't matter, as long as it sticked Most of them are now peeled, old and brittle hold it, and you’ll witness the fall of it’s mache like the result of a scratch on a dry scalp She holds onto it, like when hesitating to clip the remains of a chipped fingernail Wishing that the house echoed still
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