We Are Not the Same

Beneath the old oak’s fading shade,

Children ran, and laughter stayed.

Streams would sing with washing hands,

Men would play, and hearts would dance.

Tea would steam as stories flowed,

Evenings warm where love still glowed.

Scraped knees, whispered tales at night,

The village hummed in soft twilight.

Now screens glow where eyes once met,

Our voices lost, our hearts forget.

Likes replace the stories told,

Scrolling through lives that feel so cold.

O, remember the warmth, the sky,

The laughter that will never die.

Bring back the colors, soft and true,

Live with your hands, your heart, your view.

We are not the same, it’s true…