Echoes of Dusk

The swingset creaks, chains worn by time,

a child’s laughter hangs like a ghostly chime.

Sunset spills gold on the dust of the ground,

a final farewell as day turns around.

I sit on the bench, shadows stretch long,

watching their joy in a world where I don't belong.

Memories flicker like fireflies caught,

lost in the glow, each moment I sought.

The air turns cooler, the light starts to fade,

drifting through echoes of games that we played.

In this golden hour, I’m tethered and torn,

chasing the laughter of youth, now forlorn.