The stairs

The stairs won’t go down

Or up

They follow in curves

The steps are covered in smoke and

disappointments

 

We have relatively a little left

from childhood’s joy

Hardly any smiles

Rather painful

As a crust on a not yet forgotten

Scar

We go on with the road

With gradually less hope

And we tear

pieces from the heart

And as Hansel and Gretel

We try to leave a trail

Thinking that someday

We’ll find the way

home

 

Reviews

[[untitled]]

This a very thought provoking piece. The happiness of childhood does gradually slip away, unfortunately, and I like how you use Hansel and Gretel as a metaphor for this phenomenon. I especially like the phrase, "and we tear pieces from the heart." It's as though the heart were paper thin, and with every action in life it becomes smaller. This is a sad, poem, but it rings with truth.