It is coming back to me now
Remember the forgotten
When we stashed them
beneath the stairs
Knicknacks and our dreams
Hidden from parents and prying eyes
A slight chance
The magic could be stolen
Taking away our stick swords
our plastic armor
Cutting down enchanted forest
where we roamed while young
Leaving us with nothing
but their world
Where the monsters are real
and dreams go to die
Remember the forgotten
When we stashed them
beneath the stairs
Knicknacks and our dreams
Hidden from parents and prying eyes
A slight chance
The magic could be stolen
Taking away our stick swords
our plastic armor
Cutting down enchanted forest
where we roamed while young
Leaving us with nothing
but their world
Where the monsters are real
and dreams go to die
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
nikonphoto80:
are you coming to the Lennon show tonight?
selfimposedexile:
It was great to meet you too. Awesome poem by the way. Type more Later -Trolll