If ever anyone would look for her,
There was an orange line she used to be,
So near and close to getters and cafés,
That if you managed to ask. more or less,
They’d tell you, Red, Blue and Green was not she;
Although evidently, It seemed to be more proper,
For Red, Blue and Green to be the ones,
Since those were her colors, hers, the favorites,
You would assume, that, that was she,
Dressed in Red, Blue, Green or Ivory.
But if you wandered long enough,
An looked around, and far and up,
And followed all the lines in town,
You should’ve asked the Orange line;
She would’ve told you where she was,
What stop she stopped, what door she closed,
What steps and steps she walked and walked,
Away and away, and far away, she chose.
So if you are wondering what went wrong,
That you didn’t see her in that red spot,
You didn’t get it,
You didn’t get the line, those easy to read ones,
And so very easy to ride, right across the town.
So, do not mumble now, do not regret,
She is gone,
Never to return and mend
You’ll never see her,
And this is how it ends.
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