top of page

October, 2009

The world used to be so colorful. 

Sun shining, just as it did in the movies, 

the rain pattered down in perfect puddles,

with nothing but a clean reflection inside. The grass was green; a vibrant green, 

and bright red and yellow were April’s kites.

Dad’s newly cleaned car like a diamond gleamed,

and the moon glowed bright on those summer nights.

The world used to be so colorful.


Now when I see those playgrounds 

and I gaze at the empty slides; 

the swings with no riders cheering, 

there is only a broken smile. 

And still the parks are barren, 

save for a few old couples walking; 

strolling in the afternoon air, 

with autumn slowly creeping.


And how marvelous it seemed to me 

when those leaves had started changing.

Now I watch them fall, just waiting 

for October to finally pass by. 

Where I used to pile mountains high, 

full of brown, and yellow, and red, 

I now lie without motivation. 

Staring at this screen on this little bed.


Now when I spend my evenings 

watching the nightly news 

and reading of some war in the East, 

the only thing I can ever do 

is just say, “that’s too bad.” 

These were worries I never had 

when I was only watching cartoons.


Above all I can still hear the voices; 

those faces I once knew. 

We thought we’d be friends forever 

as we skipped through the morning dew.

That’s the thing the never tell you 

until it’s just too late. 

How could we separate ourselves 

after all this time having fun? 

But even the sun must finally set. 

Night and Day can never be friends.


Yet that’s all this is, these memories: 

just a fading image of the past. 

It’s like some old commercial,

where they tried to sell 

some impractical fantasy. 

But this time we can’t simply fast forward,

or turn back and rewind, 

the remote just isn’t there. 

It’s lost between these cushions of time,

a burden our backs are forced to bear.


The world used to be so colorful; 

I remember when it seemed so cheerful.

But black and white is all I see 

of this new reality. 

It’s those newspapers that our grandparents read,

the ones with all those scary stories 

of how the world really is. 

It used to be so colorful.


Comments


bottom of page