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.
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Author:
Lore (
Offline) - Published: September 29th, 2025 07:14
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
Melancholic with a wistful feel the poem carries a feel of times past never to return. Lovely
Lore, this is quietly heartbreaking…the empty swing, the lost laughter, the child who no longer exists. It lands heavy. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛ Well done.
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