Woohoo, another poem. Actually I’m still unsure if this qualifies as a poem or not because it was original a short story and the way I wrote it gave it the repetitive feel of a poem and I changed it. Oh well.

By the way, some of the sentences are a little long so they go to the next line.

—

Laughter, cheers and shouts.
Sounds of cheerful merriment came from the heart of the playground.
Children, little bundles of energy, weaved through the equipment, contenting their little carefree hearts.
A picture of happiness, of innocent childhood.

A little girl sat by the side.
Alone. Solitary. Silent. Watching.
Little arms hugging her knees, little face hidden from view, she sat watching.
Dull eyes watching, capturing every movement made.
Like a video camera. Like a quietly recording video camera.

Years passed, and everyone grew up.
But little girl still watched.
In a room full of four-legged furniture, where an adult teach the young.
Languages, mathematics, sciences and arts.
Children working with their pencils, children throwing paper planes, children having fun.
Little girl watched.
Silently. Wordlessly. Like a ghost.

Chatter, giggles and chuckles.
Sounds of enjoyment wrapped around the large place to set it uplifting atmosphere.
Teenagers and adults moved through the crowd, seeking where they want to be, who they want to be with.
A portrait of good spirits, of pleasure of young people.

A little girl stood by the side.
Lost. Confused. Soundless. Watching.
Her little arms went round herself, her little face looking down, she stood watching.
Lackluster eyes watching, searching for every detail.
Like a scanner. Like a diligently working scanner.

Years passed, and everyone grew old.
But little girl still watched.
In a room full of whirling machines and bright screens, where the adults work for their young.
Bosses, departments, assignments and colleagues.
Adults discussing with their friends, adults frowning at their papers, adults doing work.
Little girl watched.
Smiling. Freed. She is a ghost.