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No Play

The problem with growing old is growing old and losing the ability or time to play.

By Dean TraylorPublished 5 months ago 1 min read
No Play
Photo by Sylvester Sabo on Unsplash

I.

The quiet of the day

as the sky grows shades of gray.

That’s the loudest noise

where once the Children would play.

II.

Nobody on the slides

or the various rides.

Just ghosts here

now abides.

III.

These days business as usual

and we work like a mule,

Children don’t come to play

when work becomes the fuel.

IV.

Once a fun child

now lives a life that’s mild.

So now we’re adults

and rules say we can’t be wild.

V.

So the sky grays

on long days.

We wish we could play

and for a sliver of a sun’s ray.

VI.

Those are gone.

in our new dawn.

And that playground

becomes a withered lawn.

Stream of Consciousnesssocial commentarysurreal poetrySong Lyrics

About the Creator

Dean Traylor

* Masters in special education and degree in journalism.

*Seasoned writer for the last 30+ years (Newspapers, Magazines, Internet sites)

* Former writer at Hubpages, Helium, and Wikinut.

* Current: Medium (https://medium.com/@ds_traylor)

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    Written by Dean Traylor