You sat on coloured carpets
As a child
Wondering when the time would come
To grasp certain four lettered mysteries -
Titled love, life. Both questions for another day.

You stand now on technicolour floors
Painted, though not quite as vivid
Manufactured this time round - glass mirror-bred tricks of the light.

And all those mysteries from so long ago - far off questions left for a far off day - they baffle you just the same.