The Childhood we lost

Photo credit: versionweekly.com

Once, the world was wild and free,

Laughter echoed through the trees.

Scraped-up knees and secret quests,

Adventures spun from life's unrest.

Evenings filled with cricket’s song,

Chasing winds that blew so strong.

Hide-and-seek in sunlit lanes,

No two days were quite the same.

Now, the world is cold and still,

Silent screens have bent our will.

Eyes are locked in glowing trance,

Fingers swipe but do not dance.

Once, we played in dirt and sand,

Now, they clutch a phone in hand.

Lost in pixels, lost in scrolls,

Drifting further from their souls.

Dopamine, a master’s chain,

Tricks the mind, rewires the brain.

Children fed on fleeting highs,

Trapped beneath the algorithm’s ties.

Playgrounds empty, swings don’t creak,

Voices fade, no shouts, no shrieks.

Imagination bought and sold,

Replaced by trends, both fast and cold.

Not a question of screen or no,

But how to make real life grow.

To spark a fire, to light a dream,

To break away from the machine.

For childhood is not lost for good,

It waits where trees and laughter stood.

In stories told, in games once played,

In worlds outside—not on a page.