the empty lawn

children
quickly forget
the thrown ball
from lawn to lawn,
across the miles
of years, between
the rising and
setting of a
thousand suns,
and all the walks
and strolls
through deep
woods, into oceans
cold, held up
safe as each wave
took a turn
to knock us down.
and they soon
leave, as they must,
to the side
of their own lives,
as you've done
the best you can,
and let go, and
pray, alone on that
same empty lawn,
that none of it,
that love, those
lessons learned,
or unlearned,
were in vain.