The creaking door closes behind me, leaving me alone with what I have lost:
Voices--
Laughter--
Innocence--
A time when everything was black and white
When the worst that happened
Was a broken doll
A lost toy
Gone are the petty fears
Of shadows
Of thunder
Locked now
In the Lost and Found
Covered in dust now,
Behind the creaking door,
The laughing dolls
Dressed still in Christmas finery--
The games in the park--
The cartwheels on the lawn--
Piled there are the “Dress-up” clothes of a Wild Imagination
That now struggles and gasps to survive in a stark real world
A game—
Plastic swords clash
And spring horses creak as their masters ride them into battle
Here now the childish whispers as they hide in the closet fort
See the freedom as they run down the street, laughing:
At the butterflies
The rabbits
The cats and the puppies
Lost
Forgotten
Left behind
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Ah, mystery poet, who are you?? Do tell!
ReplyDeleteIs this Emily's? The "spring horses creak as their masters ride them into battle" sounds familiar.
ReplyDeleteWell whoever it is, great job. I really liked the overall message that such childhood simplicities are lost to us forever. Really quite sad, but very true.