childhood

trade my belongings for that summer rain

when we played innocently on the terrace

each rain drop a contradiction to the smiles

each laughter louder than the raging clouds

the chairs were used as imaginary walls

or as palaces to pretend and play

dirty hands and clean souls

making animals out of clay

i had only the summer holidays on my mind

now lost like innocence in time

the silence in my room is alien to me

grasping for the days of past

and with each passing moment my eyes can see

the reality of what truly lasts.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

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