A Child,
Standing in the front of
Obsolete, time-worn
And left alone in Past
—The Home ;
There is an Attic,
Through the dust and powder and the dirt,
Palpable with my childish hands,
There,
Is Lying around on the wooden floor
Forgotten plays, and toys and games;
Whirligig
No more whirling and spinning around;
Lying about my Teddy
That is Sad and Frayed,
Reminiscing that child
that used to play Tea Time;
Waiting,
for a cup of tea,
that is the mix
of water and sand,
However,
Waiting for a child...
That child will never be back again:
Goodbye, that house
And Goodbye That attic;
And plays, and toys, and games...
YOU ARE READING
My Invisible Worlds
Poesía"My Invisible Worlds" is a poetry collection compiled of poems on sundry topics. The poems were written during different times: they reflect my feelings, thoughts, and dreams. I hope that you will enjoy reading some of the pieces. Leave your comme...
