The Nursery

Where is the nurse in this dreary place?
I have yet to see one around
In this room of silence and strenuous sound
It appeared none could be found
But as I sat and started to think
A thought entered my mind and began to sink
For I understood the nurse and he understood me
As the nurse and room were the same, you see.
That room screamed a song at me
Its familiar touch and tone, chilling
I remember the dirge's look and sound
Boring, childish, and yet stilling
It spoke of murals in brilliant colors
Blue, green, and simplistic flowers
Of biblical antiquity in primal form
Lessons etched for the kid-ish swarm.
The two I watched, that played and laughed,
Their yellow house did scale
Thin voices merrily humming a tune
That memories never go stale
I sit contented, for now I know
Why to this place the children go
Its peace and farcical freedom, you see
Make the room, the nurse, the nursery.

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