Youth

The chair seldom rocks, The music has been thrown away All the toys have been broken And the laughs have gone away. Across an ancient playground Where the children once did play I no longer see or hear them laugh The Children have all gone away. The swings they no longer swing The trees stand ancient and bare And the birds they no longer sing For the children are no longer there. I close an attic window As I take off a childish mask And as I think, the tears do flow As I wished again, youth had last. Randy L. McClave