I stand before the Lost and Found of Life.
The creaking door closes behind me,
Leaving me alone with what I have lost:
Voices--
Laughter--
Innocence--
A time when everything was black and white
When the worst that happened
Was a broken doll
A lost toy
Gone are the petty fears
Of shadows
Of thunder
Locked now
In the Lost and Found of Life
Covered in dust now,
Behind the creaking door,
The laughing dolls
Dressed still in Christmas finery--
The games in the park--
The cartwheels on the lawn—
Fading into the dimming past
Piled there are the “Dress-up” clothes of a Wild Imagination
That now struggles and gasps to survive in a stark real world
A game—
Plastic swords clash
And spring horses creak as their masters ride them into battle
Hear the childish whispers as they hide in the closet fort
See the freedom as they run down the street, laughing:
At the butterflies
The rabbits
The cats and the puppies
But all is Lost
Forgotten
Left behind
In the Lost and Found of Life
I really like this one--what a cool prompt!
ReplyDeleteWow, this is a beautiful poem! It makes me think about my childhood, all the sweet memories from then, and all of my forgotten toys and pastimes from when I was younger. It's very bittersweet, mingled with a touch of remorse at having been forced to grow up. And yet could we honestly say that we wish to be little forever and miss out on some of the (few and rare) fun things of adulthood? Very nicely written, Emily.
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