Days Gone By Poem by Diane Caudle

My footsteps echo as I walk into barren rooms of days gone by
Rooms that I’m seldom able to enter without a long, sad sigh.
These rooms share countless stories, now mere wisps in the air
Whispered words from dark corners drifting from here to there.

'Enjoy them while you can, they grow up so quickly, you’ll see'
How many times I heard those words, so truthful they would be.
For now I walk among the empty, echoed rooms of ‘used to be’.
Haunted by children’s laughter and their cries for my sympathy.

If only I could hold them in my arms, feel their bodies once again
As I’d kiss their cuts and bruises, comforting each and every pain
Little ones who looked to me, believing that it was I who was so wise
As they looked to me with all their questions of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘whys’.

For a brief time in their lives I was the one with all of the answers
And for a time I was the one who yelled, “Don’t run with scissors! ”
Fingerprints on the bathroom walls, bubblegum on the floors
Stickers pasted all over the closets and finger paint on the doors.

Now I stand, looking out the window, looking at that old, oak tree
The one with the tire swing where many a day was spent carefree.
Cries of, “My turn! ” and laughter, were reminding me of days past
When fun was as simple as blowing a bubble to see if it would last.

Walking along the lonely halls of ‘remember this’ and ‘remember that’
I stop at the stairs where many a child had been punished and sat
Tears streaming down their eyes as they wailed about life’s unfairness
I’d listen, agree, then tell them they’d still have to clean up their mess.

Walking down the stairs I remember wondering if they’d ever grow
And become someone I didn’t have to tell, “Because I told you so! ”
I smile as I walk through the kitchen remembering our family meals.
Soon, it was bedtime and staying up later became negotiated deals.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have a little one beg to be in my arms,
To hold him tight and to keep him safe from all of this world’s harms.
A million dollars for a sticky kiss given from that sweet cherub’s lips
I would beg him to never grow up as I held him tightly within my grips.

The house is quiet now and as my hand reaches for the door I look around,
I hope that when the time has come someone new will treasure the sound
Of children playing in this house. Slowly walking outside and down the trail
To where my car is parked I briefly give one last look at the sign, “For Sale”.