Childhood

My childhood is stranded on the edge of memory

Time has stolen yet another of our precious belongings

I remember once the sweet sounds of children's laughter

As they enjoyed their precious time at the playground

I remember once how when we used to gather together

It was to celebrate something happy; the ecstatic singing

Of a birthday song, the impatient tension as the cake was cut

It's different now. I stare out through the window pane and

I see a playground set against a mushroom cloud, devoid of children

Haunted by shadows, filled with laughter but of a different kind

My eyes shy away from monochrome as I look at the world

I can never relive the joys of my childhood. I can never quite

Feel the same happiness as was before. Cold hands callously

Document the episodes of my previous life upon fragile glass

In a desperate attempt to them from the cruel tragedy of time

I know the glass will easily shatter, yet it offers better protection

Than I could ever wish for, if I still maintain the capacity to wish

But soon, my childhood will be but meaningless, inadequate words

Which fail to capture its very essence

~~

A change of pace might be nice. I just decided to write a random poem as a break from all this analysis. Is it good? Maybe. But I dont think its good enough. It doesnt quite hit the mark of the poem i want it to be. The language is acceptable. I havent said much about my life recently, so Ill just get you up to speed. There was a a 1-day drama workshop on Friday. You are now up to speed. OMG haha drama was so fun, but that will be the topic of another day. 

ttyl