I turned around, walked out the door, And then turned off the lights. I thought that I was moving up, Away from aging halls. Away from recess, birthday cakes, And crayon-ridden walls. Yet now I think I understand This place down by the tracks. And despite what the adults want, I’d, every time, come back. It makes a little more sense since I’m older than before. Come on inside, take off your shoes, Make sure to close the door. And while you’re here, there’s just one thing I’ve got a request for. If I may ask, these walls before us Are they mine or yours? What color is the paint in here— Blue, orange, green, or grey? Don’t ask me for my answer because I would never say. If you can’t tell, then that’s alright; It’s just my privacy. But if you know without my words, I might give you the key. You may get mad and start to think Then why’d you bring me here? If not for me then think of who It was all for, my dear. These walls, these desks, these window panes, The chairs all left askew, These things, they are not mine, you see— This room was made by you.
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