Grown

Empty
Lonely garden.
A gentle breeze
Teases the children’s swing set.
But the children don’t play here anymore;
Grown, flown the nest, carving paths on the journey of life.
Faded memories echo on the wind; the happy sound of laughter rings out.

Sun
Still shines
On past adventures,
Created in the minds of
The imaginative and inquiring of the earth.
The swings sway gently, creaking from years of not being used;
Forgotten and forlorn, casting their shadows over the forsaken, yet still beautiful garden.