Yesterday’s memories cloud my mind,
In Pink attire of younger youth,
I chuckled at the young girl’s words,
It was oh so strange; let us go back.
I was not an artist of any sort,
What was to be expected of me?
But indeed I was made into a dancing flower; along with many other things,
“Thee better not mess up!”
bafflement upon mine own brow,
Alas! What is this?
Will those remember the missing st...