Poetry

Childhood

Forgotten Childhood

In the attic of memory, cobwebs draped, A tapestry of childhood, now escaped. Whispers of laughter, echoes of play, Fading in shadows, slipping away.

In the garden of innocence, blooms once bright, Petals of laughter danced in the light. But time’s cruel hand, a thief in the night, Stole the colors, left a canvas white.

Forgotten playgrounds, where dreams took flight, Swings now rusted, in the soft twilight. The merry-go-round, a silent refrain, Spins in the mind, but never again.

Giggles and mischief, secrets untold, In the attic of memory, they’ve grown cold. Hide and seek played in the golden haze, Now hidden memories, lost in a maze.

Kites that soared in the limitless sky, Now tethered to earth, unable to fly. Childhood’s magic, a vanishing spell, Leaves us chasing shadows, trying to dwell.

Dusty old toys, with stories to tell, Abandoned in corners, where time does dwell. Teddy bear hugs and dollhouse dreams, Lost in the echoes of silent screams.

A bicycle leaned against the wall, Rusty chains, no longer a call. The sound of footsteps, once so clear, Now a distant echo, we strain to hear.

In the attic of memory, the carousel spins, Horses of joy, where innocence begins. But the music has faded, the lights grown dim, Childhood’s melody lost on a whim.

Crayon drawings on walls, a gallery of art, Now painted over, tearing us apart. The rainbow of youth, now shades of gray, Fading with each passing day.

Puddle-jumping days in the pouring rain, Now replaced by a grown-up’s mundane. Umbrellas can’t shield the memories we’ve lost, Childhood’s innocence, a priceless cost.

Once upon a time, a tale so sweet, Now wrapped in nostalgia, a bittersweet feat. Climbing trees and scraped-up knees, The treasures of youth, carried by the breeze.

Ice cream truck melodies, a distant tune, Fading like stars in the light of the moon. The taste of summers, dripping away, In the attic of memory, where children once played.

Blanket forts and pillow fights, Now folded neatly in forgotten nights. Imagination’s castle, now overthrown, In the kingdom of adults, we stand alone.

A book of fairy tales with pages worn, Corners turned, memories torn. The stories we lived, now written in sand, Washed away by time’s steady hand.

Schoolyard echoes, the bell’s sweet chime, Lessons learned in the rhythm of time. Chalkboard drawings, a world so grand, Now erased, lost in the shifting sand.

Lullabies whispered in the dark, Now replaced by the city’s hushed remark. Stars once counted, dreams once spun, Fading constellations, one by one.

Firefly lanterns in the summer night, A childhood’s glow, so pure and bright. But like the fireflies, we slip away, Lost in the dawning of a brand-new day.

Pigtails and scraped-up knees, Climbing trees, chasing bees. Childhood’s symphony, a fleeting song, In the attic of memory, it won’t be long.

Carousel horses frozen in mid-gallop, A snapshot of youth, a lingering dollop. But time, relentless, keeps moving on, Leaving behind the echo of a childhood gone.

In the attic of memory, the carousel spins, A kaleidoscope of moments, where joy begins. But the music is faint, the colors blur, Childhood’s magic, a phantom stir.

Hopscotch squares on the pavement drawn, A hop, skip, and jump, a game foregone. Childhood whispers in the autumn breeze, Lost in the rustling of fading leaves.

Puzzle pieces scattered, a game half-done, In the attic of memory, where shadows run. The puzzle of childhood, incomplete, A mosaic of moments, bittersweet.

Wagon rides down the old dirt road, Echoes of laughter, a symphony bestowed. But the wagon sits idle, covered in dust, In the attic of memory, a relic of trust.

Skinned knees and bedtime tales, Innocence worn like fairy-tale veils. But the clock ticks on, the tales grow thin, In the attic of memory, where dreams begin.

The first taste of chocolate, a stolen treat, Now a distant flavor, bitter and sweet. Childhood’s pantry, shelves now bare, In the attic of memory, we seek it there.

Sandbox castles washed away by the tide, A fleeting kingdom where imagination resides. But the tide recedes, the castle crumbles, In the attic of memory, where silence humbles.

The tooth fairy’s visits, a glittering surprise, Under the pillow where innocence lies. But innocence, too, takes flight, Lost in the shadows of the night.

A teddy bear’s embrace, a comforting friend, In the attic of memory, where moments blend. But the embrace fades, the friend grows small, In the vastness of time, we lose it all.

Starlit wishes on a cloudless night, A telescope aimed at dreams so bright. But dreams, elusive, slip away, In the attic of memory, where shadows play.

Snow angels and snowball fights, In the winter’s chill, under soft moonlight. But the snow melts, the footprints fade, In the attic of memory, where time is laid.

Childhood, a canvas of hues so divine, In the attic of memory, where shadows entwine. Though forgotten by time, its essence remains, In the whispers of heartbeats, where innocence sustains.