Poetry: Contemplations

Children Playing

Echoes of
children’s laughter
through the glass
journey joyously
into my silence.

It is cold outside
frigid actually
and yet these
bundles of joy
stomp and run on
the snow stained
frozen ground.

Crimson cheeks
happy shrieks
one stops stares
runs towards a
squirrel who
frets and twitches
on the gray

So I reminisce
about a life
I never had
a life full
of happy girls
and happy boys
which had all
but escaped me.

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