Cry of a grown-up

There is a child in everyone
Only a few would admit
Just as in our world
Letting the child out would seem childish

We once were chasing butterflies
And went behind grasshoppers
We hopped as they hopped
The number of dragon flies
Caught and left
We failed to count

Lying on meadows
and climbing the trees
Are long forgotten
The grasses that we played with
And the smell that we carried home
The richness of grass and scent of wild flowers
Which when as a child
Were ones that gave us joy
Fail to excite us now

The castles on sands
That we built
The fortress and playhouses
Big and small
Our own weapons - bow and arrows
Not to forget the wooden sword
The dramas enacted in the open
With no spectators
But the wide-wide sky
The green cheerleaders clapping their hands
Those trees that we loved
who gave us shadow and place to play
Both up and below
Are now gone
To be replaced by lifeless stones
That what we call home

Every stone had a story
Every mud and clay had life
Life wasn't worth a dream then
But dreams were life
We laughed together
We cried together
And we hooted together
People indeed were around
We never bothered them
Nor did they
It was our own world
Different but close to heart

Certain things are allowed
only for those who are just above 18
It's been ages since we crossed the landmark
Yet we are not allowed
To enjoy what we enjoyed once
Not by others but by our own egos
Just because we are adults