Childhood is gone

I can no longer gaze

at the distant horizon

The trains now rattle behind

what were once grasslands

That you all cycled through

And now, grey roads and walls.

Where are your friends?

The ones you grew up with

Tell them,

that the scent of the summer grass

is devoid of their laughter.

Your cricket bat stands quiet

in one corner, waiting

to be picked up.

I need children playing,

when its gloaming

Parents standing in balconies

calling them home

When did you grow up so much?

The vastness is obscured

Our city has grown taller

The door to the rooftop is locked

Why must they keep you

from the velvety sky

the velvety sky has fewer kites

the festive air the same,

exuberant and

such an exemplar

of our youth.

Where did you go?

Why aren’t there any photographs?

of you waking up at six thirty

of the bus stop you were always late to

of the roads that led to school

of your own home

and the rest of our city?

Why did they choose you?

To stay behind

To watch everyone leave

And is the emptiness enough?

To fill it, with my ode.

Teach me then

To dream of the future

To let go, of what life once was

Or come back

Before what’s left

Is also gone.