Wrinkled hands brush the rough surface,
painted in white and orange,
every corner echoing laughter,
of children who knew no care.
Living in a dream,
turning scraps into trinkets,
from commonplace to paradise,
powers only the young possess.
Rusty ladders became adventures,
parking lot, a playground.
Memories of a time long gone,
flashed and got my heart racing,
like I'm running again,
with my friends,
without a care.
YOU ARE READING
Curse Of The Devil: POEM COLLECTION
PuisiMy first attempt at poetry...well that is if you don't consider the embarrassing Hello Kitty poems from my childhood, which I don't. Please don't judge me if it is trashy, I am trying and I will appreciate it if u comment on what you thought of the...
