Your Poetry Dot Com - Our Dying Days

Those memories of walking slowly in the sun while
The warmth felt like heaven on your face.
And nearly made you cry or shout with joy.

The times spent with your friends playing dress up or
Even acting out a hero’s tale,
Without the burden and fear of hurting someone.

Running free through that barren field,
Made you feel like you could almost fly,
Like you could almost reach up into the heavens
And rearrange the constellations any way you see fit.

But those day are gone.
Now there is more freedom,
But only the freedom given legally.
No more believing in Santa Claus, or magic,
And no longer thinking everyone one is perfect in their own way.

These are our dying days
With worrisome days and painful heartbreaks and rejections.
No more magic in our lives, no more magic in our dreams,
For these are our dying days.

This poem is Copyright © bleuflannel