O Pink Walker,
O Rolley Chair of Danger,
Who supported the bottoms of our children
And taught them to walk,
Very fast,
We who are about to discard you,
Salute you.
You relic of the past
From an era of responsibility and danger,
In you our children ran over our toes
And rammed the bridges of our feet
Even to the point of swearing,
For you do not adhere to codes of safety—
Limiting range of motion
And preventing passage over curbs and steps.
No, in you our children had free range.
From a garage sale, you first came,
To be Lee's transport at the Taylor's.
But for Rose, we took your pinkness home,
So she could glide across our wooden floors,
Lee hitching a ride.
By you, she escaped out the kitchen door
And went down the cement steps,
Bruising black and blue.
Then after four years of dormancy,
Benny races you again
Over rug and kitchen tile.
You are the means for his success
At keeping up with his siblings.
You are the sweet revenge he wields
Stubbing Lee and Rose's toes.
But alas, now Benny can tip himself out
And toddle all on his own.
O Pink Walker,
You have served us well.
You prevented our children from eating marbles off the floor.
And you buffered them from knives on the counter.
But now your era has come to a close.
Your padded backing has disintegrated.
And several wheels are missing.
Your pink seat is ripped and dirty.
And all our children have outgrown you.
For they have learned to walk.
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