Where Have All The Children Gone Poem by sylvia spencer

When your children grow up, and they flee the nest
They go away with no thoughts, but their plans that are plenty.
They say they will keep in touch, either by phone or letter,
then as you watch them go, your heart feels rather empty.
The house seems lonely, and oh so very still.
There's no sign of muddy boot's, or trainer's in the hall.
No moutain bike or skateboard, cluttering up the yard,
the only thing that's left is graffity on the wall.
The perfume and the hairspray, still lingers in the air
Everything is now in order, yet colours seem adrift.
Talcum powders, and body lotions have all disapeared,
and the rim around the bath, still remains because it's
hard to shift.
There are no outburst of laughter, or someone shouting Mum.
A black shroud of silence, has now covered up the house,
from each of the bedrooms, right down to the hall,
there is no other sound, not even from a mouse.
The rushing footsteps, that once greeted you at the gate
have lost there importance, as you wonder where they are.
You wait for the phone call, and the email never comes.
All their doing is living their life, in some place afar.
Where have all the children gone in this day and age,
They grow up to fast, and want to live there own lives.
They conquer new heights, and see the all sights.
Then it's home to mum, husband and wifes.
Then it's time for them to leave there humble abode
and this is what's called fleeing the nest'
you have had your children, there are no more storie's
Just you and the Old Man, and a peaceful rest.