Echoes are all that resound down these halls;
Echoes of voices still young, still young.
They’re laughing or talking or screaming –
Or still.
But only sometime, long ago.
Shadows are all that still walk ‘cross these floors;
Shadows of children come late, come late.
They’re flashing to catch up their friends, else
Catch up.
But only sometime, long ago.
Whispers are all that still push dangling swings;
Whispers of glee-songs in play, in play.
They’re jumping and pumping and flying
Away.
But only sometime, long ago.
Where are the echoes, the shadows, and whispers?
Only in dreams, long ago.
©2023 Chel Owens
Inspired by Carrot Ranch‘s prompt:
March 13, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a place where children once played. It can be a field, a playground, or any place that attracted children to play. But now it is empty. Abandoned. Go where the prompt leads!
Chel Owens 
The older we get the sharper the feeling of times lost and gone. 99 words well used.
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Thank you, Obbverse. You said it well as well.
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I really like this 💜
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Thank you. ❤️
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Excellent, Chel. Abandoned places always speak of what has been lost.
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I love abandoned places. They hold such mystery and memory.
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With a big question as to why did the folks just walk away.
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Beautifully written.
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Thank you.
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Is this part of your house remodelling? 😀
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🤔😄 Could be.
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Such a hauntingly sad poem, Chelsea. The photo is too – reminds me of an old house on an uncle’s property, sometime, long ago.
I loved the refrain in your poem. It echoed like the children’s voices would have, sometime, long ago.
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Thank you, Norah. I’m pleased it came across that way; yes, photos and abandoned places are haunting and sad.
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💖
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Given the child-related madness you seem to be experiencing of late, this poem was so beautifully moving. I especially appreciated it now that I’m an empty nester. I still recall, though, the messes they made, and now I can look forward to one day seeing my kids experience something similar! I guess you can, too?
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You are so right. I know I need to enjoy the moments, but I sure am looking forward to the quiet.
Let’s hope for cute grandkids!
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A haunting poem somehow, somehow, with the repetition and the echoes, shadows and whispers. Very cool.
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Thank you, D. ❤️
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Hauntingly beautiful, Chel! The repetition mirrors the echoes in the halls so well.
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Thank you. ❤️
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