Childhood Poem by R. C. Welford

In the house where I grew, I listened,
I loved. no wrong could come about me,
And no wrong could be done, by those loved.
They would ask, and I would do, so happily.

Those I love, like angels, their halos framing smiles,
And peaceful words. colour etched upon the walls;
Crayons lie waiting for the next flower,
To be drawn, amongst dolls and rubber balls.

Beneath their smiles, the frowns line their forehead,
And they cease to be the one and only.
With their scowls at the scrawlings on fresh paint,
Twisted flowers, all so sudden, feel less homely.