“The colour is pink, yes indeed, even the window is reflecting the same true colour, the one of pink” Gun Roswell

Yesterdays reflected
From old discarded windows
An old shack
Once painted black
Now boasting, the colour pink
It’s an eye sore some say
But others, smile and
In front of it for a moment stay
It’s not useful anymore
Who knows what secrets
Within it are stored
But for now, the windows
And the doors
Remain locked of course
And maybe someday
You may find the key
Which unlocks them all