A simple poem about how places in our youth no longer bring us the same joy they once did. |
In shadows cast by memories sweet, Where once our hearts would dance and meet, Lies silent now, a faded scene, Where joy once flowed, now vacant, keen. Those places dear, our youthful haunts, Echo with whispers of forgotten jaunts, But as we return with longing eyes, We find the magic slowly dies. The playground where we laughed and played, Now stands deserted, memories frayed, The streets we roamed in endless flight, Now seem dull, devoid of light. The cafe where we lingered late, Now feels hollow, bereft of fate, The park bench where we shared our dreams, Now sits abandoned, torn at the seams. For time has wrought its cruel decree, Robbing the past of its jubilee, Leaving us stranded in wistful dismay, Longing for the joys that once held sway. Yet in this melancholy hour, we find, A bittersweet solace, gentle and kind, For though the places may have changed, Our memories remain, unscathed, unaged. So let us cherish the moments gone by, Hold them close, beneath the sky, For though the places may no longer bring, The same joy as before, our hearts still sing. And in the quiet whispers of nostalgia's song, We find a comfort, steadfast and strong, Knowing that though the places fade away, The memories of our past will forever stay. |