In the yard I see a sign halfburied

In the yard, I see a sign, half-buried,

rust curling like thoughts, fragile and blurred.

A bicycle chain tangled, tangled like dreams,

our childhood memories dusted with decay,

a rusty relic of a past that won’t let go,

cries of laughter still echoing, deep within.

In every crevice of this long-forgotten place,

it whispers of beauty trapped in time's embrace.