Member-only story
The Beautiful Stream
A poem
How fortunate were we when the world was an open canvas?
When we walked barefoot on dewy, wet grass
While fleeting shadows transitioned under the shining sun.
Moments were too wonderful and dazzling to last.
The creeks of the swings
The ascent of a kite
The infinite hours of play and laughter
The stories we told. Oh, how wonderful were the stories we heard and shared with others?
Oh, the beautiful and ephemeral stream of childhood,
A tapestry made of dreams, bliss and wonder,
Where time drifts and gently fades
Laughter echoes in sunny meadows
Adventure blossoms with every new sight
And the mornings were bursting with endless light.
Under the blotchy shade of the Acacia tree,
a stick,
a stone,
and a kingdom was created with imagination.
This poem was inspired by my inner child who was always looking forward to growing up and becoming an adult. Not realising, the creativity, joy, wonder and innocence that would sadly diminish with age,
Layla Kareem
