The Playground Withers and Grows Old

The playground withers and grows old. 

Its aging wood is taken over by the sun. 

I remember when the kids would play at night; 

My mother and I would watch together. 

Look at how it flies, the time. 

This is all a distant memory. 


Soon, I believe, this important memory,

Will be something we can remember together.

I watch my mother as she ages old.

I watch her enter peace every night.

I remember us playing under the sun,

Not understanding the concept of time.


My father and I panic at time.

We become fearful every night. 

Our worries and tears have become old. 

My mother can no longer see sun. 

To my mother we become a memory 

The kids worry and weep together. 


My mother and father still sleep together. 

They remember their days out under the sun. 

They knew that someday they'd grow old, 

But never thought of being a memory. 

They wish it would stop, the speedy time. 

The sun disappears, and again we reach night. 


We soon breach the final night. 

The day has now become old. 

The doctor tells us it is time;

We exit the room all together. 

She is now a memory. 

I see her up there, in the sun. 


The sky is bright, up comes the sun. 

The children no longer play together. 

They have no mom to watch at night. 

They now all have this fear of time. 

Our mother was taken into memory. 

Our father has become too old. 


We all are scared of getting old. 

We all become afraid of our final night. 

We all cant bear the curse of time. 



This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741