A rusted swing
sways with no one,
as if still waiting
for the small feet that once made it fly.
The park is empty,
the laughter has vanished,
and only a hollow echo remains
among the weary trees.
A broken doll
rests beneath the damp earth,
the rain erased her name,
just as life erased mine.
I close my eyes
and search for that refuge of light,
but I find only cold walls,
yellowed photographs,
and a child who no longer exists.
That child was me,
with pockets full of stones
and untouched dreams,
who now walks in silence
with empty hands.
My childhood shattered
like glass against the floor,
and the fragments glimmer
only to remind me
that it will never return.