Playground
Playground…
Playground…
I am making decisions every morning,
None of them comes along with any warning.
To go right or to go left, which one is right?
Living in darkness or hoping to see light.
I made million decisions, most of them fine,
Few I made that I think it wasn’t mine.
Few that changed my life led me to despair,
I wish I had a chance go back and repair.
What if I had the power to do it right?
To go back and play all day and all night.
What if I can go back to play like a young?
To sing all of the songs that ought to be sung.
What if, instead of books, I learned to live life,
to learn dance, and learn to play with no more strife?
Alas, sun is setting, darkness coming soon.
My hope is to see it; that wandering moon.
I wish there was a game I could play now.
A childish game if you can show me it how.
The sinful mirror on my nearest wall,
Reminding my summer has gone; it is fall.
The autumn now, it is cold and full of pain.
The winter promises more days to complain.
I am thinking to go back and do it right.
As if mistakes never were an oversight.
I am thinking of a play in the playground.
To play as young again, hope youth to be found.
If I play hard again, I might become young,
I will dance like a fool, unknown and unsung.
I don’t know where to play or who I can trust.
In this strange game of life, aging is unjust.
Where is my playground, my supernal bliss?
Awake me once again; no life is like this.
7/28/18 Haloo
Note: This particular style of poetry is called "Masnavi"; it is a spiritual couplet usually with eleven syllables. Poetrysoup has a great explanation and example of this form of poetry.
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