By Arcassin Burnham



You've grown quite old-looking,
You use to be knee high,
And beautiful as ever,
Bet the cost of loving you is high,
You use to have blonde hair,
Guess you dyed it black,
To cover up the fact,
The quilt that still sits there,
I put pictures on my will,
From when you wore a Tutu,
The one that you gave to me,
When I broke up with you,
Besides that its been awhile.