Maya Kaabour | + Follow Poet |
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Garden of Eden ( Part Two )

One normal winter afternoon, Yehoshua went with the other kids to play,
They played in the garden's playground like they do everyday,
Nothing odd seemed to get in their way,
Until they heard a deafening shriek of dismay,

The shriek was coming from a house buried under tall beautiful trees,
Yehoshua and his friends ran to the house swiftly and with ease,
When they got there they looked through the window and got on their knees,
To be able to watch without getting caught and for as long as they please,

Behind the glass was a dead man placed on a table of wood,
That scene frightened Yehoshua, he couldn't believe what he was starting to see,
Yehoshua got life's cycle all misunderstood,
He decided to never grow up, he wanted to be a child eternally,

So he pushed his friends away, with his eyes full of tears,
And ran back to the playground while his heart was pounding with fear,
Life to him was too dear,
Than to end after a few years,

He ran and played everywhere,
And moved the swings so fast and without a care,
He even scraped his knee and was unaware,
He picked the pieces of  his shattered childhood that were spread here and there,
    
Years later Yehoshua became a man,
With a lot of work and responsibilities in his hands,
And everyday he promised himself that he'd go back to see,
His garden of Eden, where he was once happy,
But poor Yehoshua never seemed to be,
Able to get to his serenity, 

And when he retired he finally got the chance,
To give his garden of Eden one last glance,
And as he slowly moved the swings,
He enjoyed life, and its simplest things,

Moments felt like hours while he played alone,
Until Yehoshua heard that same shriek that has once blown,
At him pain so deep it cut him to the bone, 
He didn't know what to do, for his spirit was so forlorn,

Suddenly came a chilly breeze,
That quaked the ground, demolished the trees,
And roared the tides of all the 7 seas,
Yehoshua cried and begged on his knees,
In a second, Yehoshua found himself placed on table of wood made of fine trees,
He could feel and he could see, yet every time he tried, he failed to speak,
And as he looked to his right he could see,
Little kids that started to squeeze,
Their shocked faces to the glass, for they found that childhood isn't until eternity,
And that Yehoshua was dead, and dead was he…

Copyright © Maya Kaabour | Year Posted 2007

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