Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2023
I hear the children playing; their laughter most of all. and
Why am I here alone in my bedroom listening.  I too am young
I should be with them but I am not.  So long ago I  hear their cries
Their song so beautiful as the sun goes down and I in my room
Alone -so long ago a witteness still to this memory of my youth
Written by
David Bernard Scully  75/M/South Florida
(75/M/South Florida)   
  270
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems