In summer, when the wind is warm,
And the bees and the wasps begin to swarm,
Children are seen, playing, in their yards,
While their parents sit around, playing cards,
As they talk of their childhood dreams,
And take a break for homemade ice cream,
Playing a game of make believe,
Cry when they have to leave,
I sit, watching from the gate of the fence,
I wonder, where gone is the innocence?
Reason for writing:
This is one of my less meaningful poems, but it's probably the easiest to understand.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Cindy Lawrenson-Cancer.