The streetlights hum a lullaby,
where once we ran so free.
Barefoot dreams and laughter bright,
now fade to memory.
The swings still creak, the trees still stand,
but we don’t climb so high.
The world grew big, our hands let go,
and we forgot to try.
The summers stretched like golden waves,
so endless in their shine.
Yet time, unkind, has called us home,
and left them far behind.
The stars we swore would guide us back
now shimmer cold and high.
And childhood whispers soft goodbyes,
like echoes in the sky.
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 10:06 PM UTC
The streetlights hum a lullaby,
where once we ran so free.
Barefoot dreams and laughter bright,
now fade to memory.
The swings still creak, the trees still stand,
but we don’t climb so high.
The world grew big, our hands let go,
and we forgot to try.
The summers stretched like golden waves,
so endless in their shine.
Yet time, unkind, has called us home,
and left them far behind.
The stars we swore would guide us back
now shimmer cold and high.
And childhood whispers soft goodbyes,
like echoes in the sky.
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