I used to have a pink dollhouse,
sitting in the corner of my room.
With little tables and chairs
and a family of it’s very own.

I used to have a pink dollhouse,
with children named Ryan and Allie.
And dogs named Brownie and Spot.

I used to dream I’d live in this pink dollhouse,
that my life would be like Allie’s.

I filled the pink dollhouse with
food,
beds,
sinks,
couches,
toys
and people.

I filled the outside with pools,
cars,
and a porch that played music.

I used to have a pink dollhouse,
that now I barely touch.
But the dollhouse brings back memories,
of something I once loved.

I used to have a pink dollhouse,
that I now see my cousins play with.
And I see me in them,
the kid that loved,
her pink dollhouse.