I wish we could go back to the days
Where the little child in my soul
Plays under the heat of the sun
With her innocent heart.
Watching the clouds make art
As her hair flew up and down
With the swing next to elm trees.
She would stare at the meadow
Behind the old iron fence
And pretend she was next to the ocean
As the long grass mocked waves
And her tiny hands burrowed beneath
The warm sand.
She never knew hate
Until the day her heart went cold
And the child in her heart froze in mid play.
Now her dead soul
Relies on memories
To keep what's left alive.
12/29/2016
YOU ARE READING
Year's End: 2016
Poetry"In this endless stream of time I'll remember this moment. The piano music with its beautiful singer Her soft voice on the radio calms The classroom." -Nostalgia Remember that you can't live life without actually living your life.
