Waiting For Them To Return

Whistle blew 
Sense of finality descended swiftly
Players left the field 
Spectators stood up
Seemed they were in trance
Kept cheering on
As if they were reluctant to leave

Slowly did they cross
The threshold of no return 
To their mundane lives
Return from slice of escape 
A memory that will linger on 

The field prepares herself 
For a meaningless forlorn existence 
Bearing  footmarks like memory
Torn packets, empty paper cups, empty bottles 
Litter the stand
Telling the story of bygone festivity

Silence shrouds them in a thick blanket 
Hiding the silent tears of agony
They keep each other's company 
In silence they wait for the new day
To  make new memories 

We are the players, the spectators 
The field and the stand
We the moms and dads
Host the games our children play 
We watch them grow and fly away
And wait for them to return someday