The silence echos with the last reverberation of lost laughs,
Soaked into the cold stone walls; listen.
If you press your ear against the bricks
They shall tell you all the stories that they know, spanning
Decades; years ago, as now,
The same routine played out
By different faces in the echoes of the past;
Their ghosts collide in the empty room;
Is your shiver
Simply the cold, or something more
Like the ache of the child
You used to be?
The wide emptiness, a place unknown,
Strangely forbidden, taboo,
Wrong; it aches of lack,
A cracked and crumbling shell, waiting
Hi there! I wanted to put the poem first this time so that you could form your own opinion based on the words, before I told you what I was writing about. My scout leader from when I was younger challenged me today to write a poem about that feeling of walking into the scout hut in the middle of the day when no one is there, of it being cold and empty and such, and this is what I came up with. I hope you enjoyed it, and whether you did or didn’t, please leave some feedback down below. I’d be especially interested to know what it made you think about before you read this bit! Thanks.