The Tricycle

The tricycle

There was a pink tricycle,
in the middle of a short street,
on it a little girl,
only six.

There was a feeling,
a pang inside her chest,
caused her to rush home
alert her siblings
call for her dad

they arrived at the garage
three small figures huddled
in a lit doorway
looking in to the darkness

she reached out and touched
the awful weight
the sickening swing.

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