Echo Of My Childhood Poem by Natasa To

In quiet corners of the mind

a voice still lingers—soft, unkind,

not with sorrow, but with hue,

of days once bright, yet fleeting too.



The swing still creaks in memory's breeze,

a tethered song between the trees,

and laughter rolls across the air,

though no one living lingers there.



Footsteps scatter, then dissolve,

puzzles left I'll never solve;

time replays its fragile call,

a distant rhythm after all.



The echo hums—both near and far,

like fading light from some old star;

reminding me of who I was,

and who I've carried into dust.



Not lost, not gone—just echo bound,

a whispered self the years surround;

childhood lives, though out of sight,

an echo still, in dreams at night.